


Secrets and Directives

by MissYingYangKay



Series: YYK's Hetalia AU [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: All the Countries | Nations (Hetalia), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Nations, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Dubious Science, Family Drama, Gen, Government Conspiracy, Hetalia Headcanons, Hopefully not biased/preachy, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), Humans being humans, I Tried, Moral Ambiguity, Nation Politics, Nation-Human Interactions, Not Quite I Mean, Not Real World Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Partisan Nonsense, Politics, Politics but just related to worldbuilding and characters, Slow Build, Slow Burn Revelation, Social Media, Swearing, Tags Are Hard, Time Skips, United Nations, Worldbuilding, lots of worldbuilding, nations discovered, nations revealed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 82,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24690454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissYingYangKay/pseuds/MissYingYangKay
Summary: “Nations and humans have a complicated relationship. It’s almost as complicated as their relationship with other nations.”This is a version of the world where Nations exist, and thus, they influence it. With the internet, people start to notice.[Nations discovered fic]
Relationships: America & England (Hetalia), Germany & Prussia (Hetalia), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: YYK's Hetalia AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884193
Comments: 120
Kudos: 216





	1. Let's Start From the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [News Feed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8517976) by [MayAnny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayAnny/pseuds/MayAnny). 



> **A character's opinion is _not_ my opinion. Do not. conflate. the two.** If you want to know my _actual_ opinion, ask nicely.   
>  **Characters _don't_ reflect Public Opinion.** They reflect my interpretation of history and culture.
> 
> **Unreasonable, angry comments will be ignored.**
> 
> **Unreasonable, angry, _anonymous_ comments will be deleted.**  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember back in 2019, at the turn of the year, when I was fairly optimistic about 2020. "Yay, I'm finally gonna write a fic!" :) Ha ha, _end me._
> 
> I know this story won't get that much attention, but I've been meaning to write this story for several months now.  
> (It's not really aimed at the current monthly crisis. I'm not even American (I'm South-American). This is still very America-focused, I like his character at lot (I like my version more, ofc, the canon-version gets a little annoying after a while)). 
> 
> So.
> 
>  **I am not a Progressive. I'm Center-Right.** I don't want to argue with anyone. Just thought I'd throw that on the table right away, to make any biases transparent, and to scare off any rigid ideologues who hate different opinions…
> 
> If you don't like that, don't read this story, _seriously._ I don't intend to go overly political, I'm more interested in telling a fun story with these themes and topics first. But it's likely you'll just stress yourself over nothing. Again, I don't want to argue. Arguments online with angry strangers won't change anyone's mind, it never did, it never will.
> 
>  **My main goal is to WORLDBUILD.** To write a setting where these 'creatures' called 'nations' exist, see how it develops, what changes, with a dose of real world stuff mixed with a hefty amount of creative liberties, because to me, there's a woeful lack of nation-human interaction in the fandom, and I'll try to make it as realistic as I can manage within the best story I can write. Hopefully something fun.
> 
> So again, I DO have bias. I'm not going to pretend to be unbiased and totally balanced. I'm writing these characters according to my perception of their cultures, and my perception is probably influenced by said bias and the circles I frequent. I don't think I can help that.  
> But I can try to focus on story and characters, instead of 'politics' (whatever that entails to you). I don't really want this story to sound preachy. I just like the whole concept of nations and how they'd interact with the world, and how the world would interact with them. It's like an interesting fantasy novel idea.
> 
>  **Also, no 'Real Person' fiction here.** I'll use fictional names for fictional people with whatever personality I want to fit them with. Even if they mirror their 'counterparts' in some ways, I'm not trying to make it accurate enough to comment on their actions. If anything, politicians are politicians, and they always kinda sound the same, no? It'll be kinda parallel to reality in some places here and there, but I don't know the real people, so take this as pure fiction.

**2014**

**January**

**New York City – UN HQ – 10PM**

**Diplomatic Assembly of the United Nations (DAUN)**

America didn’t sign up for this shit.

He signed up for a _lot_ of things, by default; some not exactly decent or upstanding.

 _Some_ were just pragmatic, borderline frigid in their logical utility, devoid of emotional considerations.

 _This_ didn’t feel like one of those pragmatisms. It felt like a goddamn chore, as nearly everything related to the world’s stage felt these days.

He held his head over the table, staring in abject disdain at the mess in front of him. Past all the paperwork, past his G8 allies on this same table, are the two Slavic siblings.

The scene behind them, where the rest of the world’s nations were sitting and discussing their own issues, still made it seem like the G8 was its own little show in front of an audience, watching them and waiting for the spark and subsequent fire.

_Could be a fire alright…_

Russia stood unabashed, off his seat, arms crossed defiantly, looking unusually stoic, _for once._

His sister, Ukraine, though, still ranted on the verge of tears, fists shaking, occasionally gesturing to his brother who refuses to even look at her, although it didn’t quite look hostile, merely… distant.

Disagreeable.

America watched without really listening.

England glanced at him, away from the conflict, frowning. “Not saying _anything_ at all?”

America shrugged, already annoyed. “Everyone’s been telling me to be ‘nicer’ to everyone else? What do you want from me now…?”

“Just… _something.”_

America let his head lull away from England, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, _oh,_ I’m _sorry,_ mister _Alfred Jones,_ is the _theft of my child_ too _boring_ for you?!” Ukraine’s shrill outrage sounded.

 _“Please, sister. Don’t be like that…”_ Russia muttered in Russian with a sigh.

 _“No! I’m not doing this again!”_ Ukraine screeched back in Ukrainian, as if that on itself were her act of defiance.

_“I didn’t ask you to, I just–”_

_“No! I don’t want to hear it!!”_

America pushed his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose, then he stood. “Alright, jeez, that’s enough already! You’ve been at it for an hour now!” _Be nice._ “You’ll have to discuss the matter of governance for the kid amongst yourselves, but until then, at least give him back to your sister.” He turned fully to Russia.

_As if what Russia’s president did wasn’t enough, Russia had to go and pull this stunt on top of it!_

_‘Just give everyone involved a goddamn headache, why don’t you?!’_

The taller nation huffed, that plastic smile on his face again. “My sister has a civil war to deal with, and she is in no shape to raise a child. I’ll take care of the little one until she recovers.”

“No deal.” America shook his head just as Ukraine spat _‘Lies! Give me Little Krym back!’_ “You can’t just kidnap a kid without an agreement, he officially belongs to your sister, so work through the channels, like you were _signed_ to do.”

America could see _Belarus_ in the very back of the rows of seats, glaring at everyone involved in the argument, gaze like sharp knives.

He ignored her.

From the corner of his vision, he could note France leaning back on his seat awkwardly with his wine, usurped straight from a bottle he brought himself and now kept under the table, almost like he wanted to hide beneath it or behind his glass.

Japan didn’t seem to be paying attention, focusing on his papers instead. China was following the argument silently with minimal reaction, his knuckle holding his head under the chin. Canada was tapping his pen, lips pursed. Germany had his fingers intertwined over the table, following the argument, trying very hard not to look anxious.

England watched, deceptively impassive with his arms crossed.

“Oh… well… This isn’t actually any of your business.” Russia remarked. “The little one likes me, I didn't force him to come with me.”

Ukraine only gritted her teeth more at that.

“It’s International Law, man. You can’t just _take_ someone else’s kid.” Why does he have to repeat this?

“A law which was passed arbitrarily by _humans_.”

_Oh, not THIS shit again…?!_

America doesn't even _try_ to start that argument, throwing his arms up as he slumped back on his seat. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Why do _you_ have to control _everything?”_ Russia crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.

There’s so little _self-awareness_ in that sentence alone that it makes America feel a boiling need to throw something at Russia's big nose. He almost staggered, held back an outraged laugh and a big _‘what the fuck’._ But he controlled himself. “I _guess_ we’ll go with sanctions, then.”

There was no disagreement from anyone in the table. Only awkward silence, as no one wanted to pitch in and extend this discussion any further.

Russia breathed in, still holding that tight smile that looked so, so forced at this point. “…You sure like to abuse your money-power, hm…?” Russia nodded to himself. “But I can handle that… That’s as far as you’ll go, yes? Like a, uh, what’s the words again?” Russia feigned doubt for a second, nudging his chin, before snapping his fingers. “Ah, right! A _pushover!”_ He laughed as if his jokes were so damn _funny._

England and France subtly leaned away, while Japan straight up stood from his seat and walked off with his work. Germany was rubbing his temples, while Canada stared longingly at the emergency exit. 

He could _also_ hear China choking a laugh from the sidelines.

America fumed and glared at the Asian elder for a second, gritting his teeth behind tight lips, and China made little effort to hide his amusement. He turned back to Russia and pointed away from the table. “You’re _off_ the table.” He hissed.

Russia’s brows dipped, expression turned almost hostile with that smile still intact, unnerving most of the _Now-G7._ “Make me.”

Oh, fuck… America glared, but he had to be nice with the other nations… He couldn’t get into a fight– _don’t get into a fight–don’t–don't–don't–_

_FUCK IT._

* * *

**Washington D.C. – Federal Department of Liaison (FDL)** **Offices** **– 7AM**

America stared at his FDL top-secretary with an awkward smile he could barely hold, sitting still in front of her desk.

The woman was pouring over his report, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t have done that, Alfred…” She added uselessly. “Just what in the world happened?”

“Well, sorry. He was just asking for it.” America shrugged.

She scoffed in disbelief, hands laid heavily on the desk. “You _know_ how important it is for you to try and resist these impulses. You don’t want to influence the rest of the country–”

America sighed. “That’s just a theory, y’know…?” He’s pretty sure it’s the _other_ way around… It’s sure always _felt_ that way. But no one really listens…

The _look_ she gave him could curdle milk. “ _Evolution_ is also a ‘theory’, that don’t mean we dismiss it.”

America slumped in his seat, not in the mood to argue “Got me there, lady…”

She simmered for a few seconds, before turning to her computer again. “Either way, I’ll remind you again, you’ll have to Justify this before the Senate tonight, so don’t be late.”

Goddamn it… “Right, right, got it…”

“When is it?”

“I know when it is–”

“When is it, Alfred?”

“It’s at 8! Sheesh…”

“Good.” She smiled triumphantly with a nod.

“Are we done? I’ve got shit to do before my _inevitable_ house-arrest.” He’d rather start as quickly as possible before his day was over, and was already standing from his seat.

“Well, no, we still should–”

“How about we do that through email?” America grinned, touting towards the window.

“That’s not really the best way to–”

He opened the window. “And it’s not like that’s so necessary, I was pretty thorough on everything else on the report, it’s just the Russia-thing that needed some explaining, no?” He lifted a leg over the windowsill.

“Yes, but we still can– Wait, you’re _not_ going to leave through the window!”

“Sorry! I’ll talk to you later!”

“Alfred, do not–!”

“Bye!”

He was out and falling on his feet heavily four floors below, now in the wide parking lot, with not a lot of strain to his calves, crouching to ease the impact further before standing with a one-sided shrug to relieve more tension.

With both hands in his pockets, he walked away.

_“Alfred! Use the door next time, dammit!”_

“Sure, next time!” He waved her off in amusement without turning back.

As soon as he ducked into a public bathroom, out of the sight of any onlookers, he switched his location with a simple _Jump_ to his current apartment in DC to get ready.

Time to get to _work._

* * *

America does many jobs in his country.

The most important ones are anything pertaining his _territory._

There is a distinction in paper, _‘technically’,_ in which only _federal land_ is _his,_ while the states get to keep the rest…?

But that’s just on paper; it’s _all_ his, and the governors who wanted to have a go at him over it have just learned to suck it.

America already learned what happens when he _shares,_ and the last thing he wanted was to deal with another nation in his territory by making distinctions and letting another one spawn, as they do eventually.

No more _civil wars._

Most citizens aren’t aware that the lands _belong_ to _someone,_ though, and most are also not aware that there’s a small sale tax of 0.01% for each purchase of land in the country, which gets increased to 0.05% to state land purchase, with the state getting the rest the taxes of what’s still _his_ money…

Needless to say, his own government owed _him_ money…

 _Maybe_ some states pay a whole 0,1% and thus owe more, sure. But that’s just the ones that betrayed him in the past, and a _civil war_ wasn’t something America was willing to forgive and forget that quickly…

That’s fair, right…?

_They can complain all the way. ‘Oh, it’s been 150 years! Let it go, already!’ they say._

_But that’s only a lot to them. It wasn’t that long ago for him…_

That pretty much left him with a good net worth of his own, which he tried to invest and spend wherever he found appropriate.

Either way, all that money belongs to America as an individual, and, under normal circumstances, he’d be free to spend this money as he wishes, even if it means giving good chunks of it to his people’s charity institutions and groups.

The government may have a damn barrier between him and his damn money at the moment, but it’s still his… even if he’s obligated to Justify wanting to use it whenever he wants to withdraw into a credit card or something.

Most times, he gets to use enough for whatever warrants it, he’s got plenty… But he’s not allowed to draw crazy amounts of it to dump into the economy at once, naturally. He knew that’d pretty much crush his own economy…

But he’s learned to manage his money by now.

_He’s not stupid, the Senate should fucking know that._

Which is why everything _else_ he does, he does so for free, and since some citizens don’t let him go without pay, some of it is still paid work (paid in cash, which is free from his government’s immediate oversight and regulations; he uses it for tips), America still feels it’s his _job_ as a nation to do all of this for free anyway.

If anything, he pays his citizens whenever they help _him_ out, just as he pays his own rent and daily expenses.

Plus _that,_ he’s got hearings and warrants from Homeland Security, sometimes leading him outside his country, which leads to _'diplomacy!'_ and _headaches_ with other nations, plus more of his ‘fuck-off’ money to make them _shut_ _up_ about it and let him do his thing…

FBI and ICE aid/raid requests, which lead him to every possible state on a consistent basis.

Personal digital and physical correspondence, all of which he gets often.

Managing his investments and charity donations and emergency veteran homes.

Monthly drills with his generals and other occasional military projects…

Working with the FDL and their research on nations in general…

Sometimes pitching in as a public attorney, helping out citizens he knew were innocent.

And _also,_ avoiding any CIA intervention and contact-attempt _(he generally stays away from the CIA these days, much to their annoyance… But maybe if they wanted him to cooperate, they should have been more loyal to begin with, the weasels…)._

Often, if _none_ of that is available for the day, he spends said whole day around the Bureau of Land Management, doing as the name implies, managing his territory.

Mostly solving land disputes of all sorts, boring stuff, _bureaucracy;_ but also aiding with the other departments over any issues so they don’t clog up with paperwork and delays as often.

That’d be the National Park Service, Fish and Wildlife Service, and the Forest Service, with all the recreation, extraction, and conservation goals in his territory, wrestling around with his companies over resource use and dealing with whatever else was necessary to help keep his home pretty and his nature safe from overly-avaricious humans.

_Or at least, just let it reach a point where it could recover without problems… He still wanted a profit here and there…_

That involved the tourist hotspots; wild animals threatening common routes; helping with wildfires; farming issues with the land; border issues, missing peoples in the woods, dealing with logging and mining and other such companies.

He paid for the salary raise of anyone he liked a little more than others, if they seemed loyal and hard-working enough, too…

It’s much like the FBI and Homeland Defense, except with fewer raids and criminal warrants to hunt around.

It’s a _lot_ of busywork instead… and there’s the added fact that he occasionally stops to do something relatively random whenever he’s walking around his country looking for temp-work or doing small acts like saving a lost dog or helping fix something broken for a citizen or helping clean the trash or helping at a local homeless shelter or soup kitchen…

If he found a homeless citizen with the drive to solve their issues and get clean, America would pitch in with his own money to help them recover.

If he found a homeless veteran, he’d direct them if not take them to his nearest emergency home he had for such occasions, and hope they’d manage to get back on their own feet eventually with the help of their fellow veterans.

…Well.

Really, this is why he doesn't _sleep_ during the week.

Not really sleeping and being efficient is the only reason he has time to do anything _else._

Ever since 2009, he’s been focused on getting his shit together, and the last few years were filled to the brim with non-stop activity and scheduling, and 6 out of 7 days, always jam-packed with work, 120 hours a week at his best.

If he were a human, he’d have died due to overworking and stress already, even more so when he alleviates it with coffee, alcohol, sometimes cigarettes, and _nothing else._

Thus, for this _one_ day today, he avoided everything that would take too much of his time so he wouldn’t be late.

The Senate whines too much whenever he’s late for this sort of thing, nevermind how long _they_ even take to start whenever he does arrive on time…

But once changed into a suit and on his way, America stopped nearby to help a mother with her car’s tire problem and ended up chatting a little too much.

He was promptly _late_ anyway.

* * *

**Washington D.C. – U.S. Senate – 8PM**

Not every senator would show up during these, naturally.

A lot of them didn’t quite care or have the energy to move around at this hour, so maybe they just preferred to stay home to do whatever.

Those who did show up only seemed to do so to scold him over _something._

That’d be mostly because America didn’t usually listen to individual summons to talk to any one senator, he’s usually too busy for that…

So those who _wanted_ to complain just _couldn’t_ miss the chance.

“It was just 10 minutes, you’re overreacting…” America sighed theatrically, leaning back on his seat behind the podium.

Majority leader for the Dems, Seth Carter, had already sat down at the front, looking down on America from there with an expression one gives a stubborn child, but deigned to indulge his whining.

Minority leader for the Reps, Jordan Connelly, stopped shuffling his papers and sent a tired frown at America. “It’s a matter of polite punctuality, Mr. Jones. What does that say about us if you won’t even bother to show up on time?”

 _That most people don’t like you guys…?_ “Well, if y’all would hurry up and get this over with it, instead of acting like I don’t have anything better to do? Maybe _that_ would help.”

“These are part of your duty as well, Alfred.” That’s followed by a poke on America’s temple from the vice-president, which he lets happen with an annoyed eyeroll.

His current president's VP, Eddie Hertz, walked past him and continued to his seat at the dais, and America crossed his arms. “You could just take the FDL report and go with that, if that’s the issue.” He looked around…

No sign of one _Kadar Kuamu…_ America wondered what was his boss so busy with at this hour; he'd usually want to check on this sort of thing…

“It’s not the only issue.” Seth Carter said with a sigh, adjusting his glasses to read. It seems everyone who wanted a piece of the action was more or less settled by now. America just tapped his foot as Carter continued. “This session is officially open. Questioning on national issues will start after international inquiries are dealt with.”

 _Alright, whatever, here it goes…_ America felt sluggish as he stands to lean on the podium.

Man, he really _felt_ that 15% approval rate every time he dealt with his Senators…

“First, you’ve gotten into a fight with Mr. Braginsky, haven’t you?” Carter asked. “Why?”

“We just argued over Crimea.” America replied levelly, adjusting his posture, as if delivering a report to his generals, although much less refined. “It seems to have spawned a _kid,_ which Braginsky took to Russia against his sister’s wishes. She says it’s hers and they were arguing about it.”

At this, Jordan Connelly’s brows inched up, and he leaned forward on his papers. “And what did he say?”

“He refused to hand over the kid, and said that he’d take care of it until the Ukrainian civil war was over,” America couldn’t help but then add– _“…which is a blatant lie…”_ He whispered in petulant annoyance.

“Did you suggest the sanctions?”

“Yes. He wasn’t very phased.” America couldn’t help but huff in frustration.

Connelly stopped to think, then–

“And the fight?” Carter spoke first, eyebrow raising.

America tried not to fidget as annoyance continued to rise. “Braginsky was being…” _An ass._ “uncooperative, and was making everyone nervous, and his sister was very distressed.” America cited lazily each with vague hand gestures. “So I told him to leave the table. He refused.”

Carter glared. “That’s no reason to cause such an incident.”

America glared right back. “What _else_ was I supposed to do, huh? Sit there like a _lemming_ while he ignored all lines I drew?”

_Even China was being a snide bastard! To his face! How could America just ignore that?!_

But his majority leader wasn’t amused nor interested in his reasons. “You were supposed to solve the issue as _peacefully_ as possible!”

“Yeah, I _tried_ that, like I said!” America hissed with spite, then turned to Connelly. “What does it tell ya that he thinks I’m a _pushover,_ and feels confident enough to say that to my face?! Should I have just _sat there_ and confirmed it to him?!”

_Of course Connelly agrees! America can feel it in him! But… he just wouldn’t agree out loud, damn him, the coward…!_

But Eddie interrupted from the VP seat behind them. “Alfred, stop yelling.” He scolded, same tone that he probably used with his children.

America grumbled and crossed his arms, taking a few deep breaths to calm down and trying not to bounce on his feet.

Carter was rubbing his temple by now. “May I remind you of the UN’s directives?” He took his glasses off to glare more directly, and America could _really_ feel the senator’s frustration… “You are not contributing to the mental stability of the American people, and you’re goading the Russian people _through_ Braginsky with these actions. You were _told_ by the UN council to control yourself and to foster peace amongst your _kind,_ and so far, you don’t seem to neither care nor make an effort to uphold your commitment to the world’s geopolitical stability.”

_‘Oh, that’s important only when it’s convenient for you.’_

As the man ranted, America began feeling that frustrated disdain for his UN-given job, like a burning pit inside that made him want to kick something, tell everyone to go fuck themselves, and promptly leave. “Why do _I_ have to babysit everyone…?!” He spat instead.

“Mr. Jones…!” Carter stood, almost outraged by the question, interrupting before America could try to make his case. “You influence the peoples of the world with how you treat the others in that room, whether you like it or not! Self-control is your _highest priority!”_

_Most politicians didn’t like when America started getting agitated… ‘Emotional manipulation’ was a particular concern of theirs…_

So America continued with just _that_ in mind, raising his voice above the senator’s. “Why is this only _my_ job?! If I have a commitment to control myself for the sake of the world’s peace, why doesn’t everyone _else_ has to do it too?! Why do _I_ have to take the bullshit and be everyone’s punching-bag while they do _fuck-all_ to help?!”

He knew he was making everyone in the room nervous and angry, but fuck it, let them stew on it.

“Mr. Jones, stop this pettiness right this instant!” Carter, like many of them, seemed to get awfully emotional whenever this topic was brought up. “The _others_ don’t have the power and influence you have! _You_ can handle a little abuse! Unless, of course, you _want_ to cause another war!”

 _Oh, this bastard…?!_ America scowled harshly, so much that everyone in sight tensed and backed away. “Me?! Me, cause a _war!_ Really?! Are you fucking _kidding_ me right now?!” He walked past the podium with a decidedly aggressive posture– “So _war_ can only happen when _you_ want to?! Otherwise, you act like you all care and it’s _my_ fault?!”

That offends them. _Fuck it._

But it’s Connelly who stood, a little more ruffled than Carter’s red-faced glare. “You’re being unreasonably emotional, Mr. Jones! You know very well why–”

“Yeah, yeah, I _do!_ But if you’re going to ask me to deal with the consequences of the shit _you_ do, then don’t act like it’s _that_ easy for me!”

“You’re being overly dramatic–!”

“Oh, fuck you…!” America spat, ignoring the offended murmuring behind. “How would you like to have immortals who _hate_ your guts?! They’re _never_ going to forget this, you know?! You think you can dump this shit on _me_ and then just _die_ after you’re done?! You’re not the ones who’ll have to deal with this for the next few _centuries,_ so just _fuck off_ with your attitude!”

Something in his words seemed to hit a trigger of ugly emotion, and Connelly was seemingly the worst off, sneering harshly.

But it was Carter who pulled the fucking trigger– “Don’t forget that _you_ wanted that war too.”

_2001–?!_

America whirled to him, sneering right back. _“Watch it._ You’re treading on _thin ice_ right now.”

He focused, and he could see the nervous sweat down the human’s brow, trying to remain still under America’s harsh stare.

Eddie seemed to get nervous enough as America darkened the whole atmosphere of the room, and he stood as well. “Alright, let’s _all_ sit down, now… Sit down, Alfred, you’re out of line.”

America broke eye-contact and scoffed in disbelief. _“I’m_ out of line…?”

“Yes! I’m sure Senator Carter didn’t mean to upset you, but you’re making everyone nervous; sit down and _breathe_ for a minute, will you?” Eddie said, eyes hard as he points to the seat behind.

America grumbled for a few seconds, before finally complying. _How fucking dare you, Carter…_ America seriously wanted a drink and a whole pack of cigarettes…

_At least Connelly had the decency to not say that shit to his face…_

After a minute of breathing, the tension in the room eased up.

As it usually does whenever these sorts of arguments happened…

There’s… the seniority curve… Naturally, many if not most of these senators have dealt with the overload caused by America’s emotional output since they’ve been here so long (for human standards, at least), they were more acclimated to it and understood that he wasn’t going to hurt them, _really,_ so it didn’t take everyone long to recover and then for things to go back to their scheduled order…

Slightly awkward at first, but they trudged along…

There were some more questions about other nations, and how they were acting around one another.

Nothing new to report about the Arabs, they always cause the same kinds of trouble and nothing’s changed at this last meeting. There was some of the usual posturing aimed at Israel, but America didn’t let it escalate.

No, Syria didn’t show up again…

America saw China talking to some African nations again, but it was nothing aggressive about it that he could see there, so he stayed out of it.

While Europeans just argued as usual amongst themselves, this time mostly about the increasing number of refugees, but it was nothing too loud or aggressive so far. It seems they just didn’t want to talk about _Ukraine,_ actually…

Ukraine herself just sat in her designated seat and moped for the rest of the meeting.

Most nations didn’t do much beyond arguing and sometimes raising their voices amongst themselves. Some threats flew around, some rattle-snaking, some weapon brandishing, but no one got hit, cut, or shot.

That's usually a _success_ by his standards! America didn’t even need to get aggressive with anyone _else_ after the issue with Russia.

The meeting was only cut short for that first day when America and Russia began their brawl, and on the next day, Russia was already on his way home, so that was that.

It seems he just came to argue with his sister…

Things were overall a little peaceful, everything considered…

Nothing new to report, then.

By the time the international concerns were addressed, America was already very bored, but he still had to endure a few more senators questioning him over national issues…

Mostly, about America’s tendency to interfere with whatever 'trouble' he encountered.

“Why didn’t you leave it to the police?” A New Mexico senator questioned. “Those criminals should have been arrested and trialed, not _murdered.”_

Oh, man, what a _loaded word_ to use… “Sure… But I wasn’t out to kill anyone…” America sighed. “And what _else_ should I have done? They were armed and had hostages.”

“That’s not your job, Mr. Jones. You should have simply called the police.”

“Keeping citizens safe _is_ my job.”

“Ah, but you can’t apply it to _everyone,_ can you? Why them, and not every _other_ victim in the country? What about those suffering right now?”

 _Like you care,_ America simmered bitterly. _They sure like to twist his argument to the point of shaming him for not being good enough to actually save everyone._

“So I should have just left their security to _luck?_ They were basically in front of me, I had to do _something.”_

“You don’t have the right to _execute_ humans at your leisure, Mr. Jones, no matter their legal status.” _What does THAT have to do with–_ “Your aggression towards undocumented humans needs to be controlled!”

“Wait, _what?!_ I’m not attacking _random_ people over their legal-status! You _know_ that, so quit your midway-politicking!”

Trying to make a point _through_ America. What an annoying practice…

And America has had this argument a million times already. It was old, stupid, and he hated dancing around it with politicians as they tried to influence his people through their words with him.

America isn't personally doing the shitty things some of his people did, but a politician might as well speak to him as if he were, if only to reach all citizens with the argument, as if America were some kind of subliminal PSA-provider for the whole country.

Thus, Eddie cut it short, as everyone knew it could go on forever. The senator only tells America to let their law enforcement do their jobs.

And America could only spit back that he _does._ He just happened to help his own if he could. Whether the criminals were legal citizens or not didn't change whether he'd do something about it or stay out of it…!

This leads back to _that’s not your job._

_But it literally is._

America left the Senate once all of this was over, thoroughly frustrated, and with a handful of the usual paperwork-heavy work under his arm.

Along with a 2-week house-arrest.

Fucking great…

He walked home, just to get some nighttime air, and to buy some stuff for the night, sighing in disappointment as he tied his suit’s jacket around his waist and took off his tie, folding it in its pocket.

There were many similar complaints written down, all of which he's carrying, all from other senators from multiple states…

Mostly about America’s arbitrary subversion of criminal justice laws, and also over the fact that he _occasionally_ talked his way into joining public institutions to check how they were functioning, and how they were interacting with the community.

Usually cops and firefighters, sometimes amongst lawyers, bureaucrats, such and such.

He liked hanging around firefighters the most, too _(a lot less stress, honestly),_ and that’s less about communal health and more about hanging out because the job itself was a lot easier for him.

Human societies could be incredibly dangerous… If he walked long enough, he’d always find a citizen in danger.

_And sometimes, terrible things just happened… and his dear citizens paid the price…_

_While America keeps on trekking despite it all…_

He’s long grown out of his childhood idealism _– why would his people kill or hurt each other…?_

That was centuries ago when he first asked this question, utterly baffled and puzzled and _hurt,_ but he’s accepted that this was just how humans were…

That’s still no reason to not be active with his natural obligation.

_If he could, he had to._

He had strength, speed, and he couldn’t die. He might as well put himself in harm’s way to save his citizens if he could.

So he follows his nose, his instincts, and the digital footprints he occasionally tracked.

When a citizen was in danger, the urge to _do_ _something_ was just too strong. Often, the criminal in question would end up dead, if he acted too harshly or too quickly, or if he saw no other option other than simply _shooting_ them, and no matter how his politicians tried to spin it, their legal status didn't quite matter that much to that part of his brain.

The only thing it registered was 'citizen in danger', and he tended to react rather _poorly_ to that sort of thing…

_Again, humans out to hurt other humans, just like always._

Those were sometimes involved with the cartels or gangs or some other form of organized crime, although, usually, it was an independent act from a lone criminal out to hurt a victim or two.

Often, that didn’t end well, and his politicians rarely missed the chance to verbally skewer him for it, but the best anyone could do was pin ‘use of excessive force’ on him.

Part of America could only think that _yeah, that’s fair… He acquired a bad habit and now it was biting him in the ass…_

The other part was less agreeable about it… _Didn’t they understand that America failed so many times before? Didn’t they get that he needed to make up for it…? He **had** to save them; so what if his urgency made him overreact…?_

To be quite honest, America knew it wasn’t exactly _his_ right to play judge and executioner to _any_ human…

But then again, America was also very open about the fact that he has some natural instincts that are _very_ difficult to curb…

_They’ve been hair-trigger for a while now…_

_And his politicians should be more aware of that by now, right? Why couldn’t they accommodate?_

His Senate, along with the Supreme Court, the President, and the top brass of his military, were quite literally the only ones who were _officially_ and _fully_ aware of America’s existence and what he really was and all the research and knowledge humans had gathered about nations, and so, they were the only ones used to dealing with his _inhuman_ excesses.

The House was a lot less in-the-know, mostly due to its popular nature, that is, _as it was originally designed to be…_

Occasionally, Representatives would be around long enough to notice America, and suspect that he wasn't just an _intern,_ and eventually, they’d be curious enough to ask their seniors, but they wouldn’t be formally introduced to him unless they joined the Senate or the higher echelons of the judicial, executive, and military branches.

It was an odd, unspoken split within Congress.

Due to that, the secret naturally reached the leaders of industry and such, the ever-present _elites…_ Although, _unlike_ government officials, they had no real experience with nations, nor had any real sense of how _different_ they could be from humans.

Some of them were afraid. Some others were intrigued. Some were merely cautious.

Meanwhile, the House of Representatives was _for the people,_ after all, and as much as he and his Founders disliked it, the secret of nations was technically for _royalty_ and other clerical elites connected to them.

Thus, these government bodies were the ones most familiar with him. The lower House was more or less left out, even if rumors and a _general_ idea of things tended to spread around politicians through their interpersonal exchanges and connections…

In the end, those fully aware, the political and military seniors, were the only ones who knew _damn_ _well_ what made him tick by now.

Treating him like a _human_ is utterly out of the question, as far as they were concerned. There were certain behaviors of his that just caused them frustration or exasperation, even if, done by any human, they’d be condemning instead.

But they see the management of his behavior as just _another job_ , as if trying to train an unruly dog, or as if calibrating a tool.

He’s something that _exists_ and that needs to be kept in a leash, least he _broke_ something.

America couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the thought, but he kept walking, aiming to find the supermarket.

When he found it, he wandered in and distractedly picked out snacks without focusing much, not paying attention to the mental pings of his citizens staring at him, because _yeah…_ a guy in a fine-looking suit and gloved hands, holding a stack of papers under one arm in a supermarket filled with middle-class folks while picking unhealthy snacks _would_ grab some attention…

Even more so with his suit’s coat tied around his waist as if he didn’t care about formality.

He was still distracted and partially annoyed with his senators, though, still simmering internally.

Because… most people in the know, across the world, including his own, tended to subscribe to one idea or the other:

  1. Nations were a direct influence on the collective emotional tone of their citizens, being the path-maker of the people’s feelings on most things of a large enough scale, such as other countries, or Congress itself.  
Or,
  2. The relation between the people’s collective emotional and the nation’s individual emotional were linked in a feedback-loop, and both wrangled to be the path-maker.



Either way, the nation is important.

The UN based its ‘guidelines’ for nations to follow based on these two assumptions.

Thus, the _controlling_ attitude of his politicians.

As if the whole _world's stability_ was hanging by a thread, only held as long as nations kept themselves under control.

As if _chaos_ would be _another_ _day_ _closer_ with each head-butting between nations.

As if whatever plans and objectives they had would all be tossed into the trash if nations couldn’t just _get_ _along,_ like one _big, happy fucking family for as long as they wanted._

As if reality would be so much easier to manipulate and navigate in, if only nations didn’t have the power to _exist_ and move the world without their say-so.

One would be hard-pressed to find someone who accepted that nations were being merely led by humans’ collective strides, sometimes unwillingly.

_Even many nations didn’t think of it that way._

America didn’t mind that, he’s used to being a contrarian… Because… Sometimes, when he’s a little too honest…

He sure feels _tired_ of holding the world on his shoulders with their mentality…

He _really_ wished he were just a passenger instead.

It’d be a lot easier to live with himself if he didn’t have to think he was individually responsible for anything he did…

“Planning a get-together?” The chipper tone snapped him out of his thoughts, and he blinked at the cashier, then at what he picked in his half-addled mind.

Mostly chips, beer, Coke, some sweets… He intended to order a pizza later too.

America smiled on reflex with a small self-deprecating laugh, already shrugging. “Yeah, something like that. We're working on something all night.” The half-lie rolled off his tongue like water. “Oh, also, one of those? Thanks.” He pointed to the glass-box near the young woman, with an innocent head-tilt.

She was still not done passing everything through, and she blinked, turning in surprise at the cigarettes, before complying with some mild befuddlement.

He looked nothing like someone who abused any substance regularly, naturally. He looked to be in top shape, _in a suit,_ which is why this cashier was still so flustered. _Humans can be so easy to charm, sometimes… even when he doesn’t really try._

Alcohol, tobacco, and a bunch of unhealthy snacks for a ‘get-together for work’, followed by payment with a black credit card.

America found _some_ amusement in the fact that he probably looked more like a rich-ass brat using daddy’s money.

Meh, he was too tired to care, and he left with everything in some plastic bags, heading straight home.

It’s Friday, and after a whole week of not ever resting, he was kinda feeling it by now…

_If there wasn’t a damn Recession, he’d be able to handle a lot more work and stress…_

He let the bags hang from the forearm and scrolled on his phone while he walked.

As nations had much better memory and could multitask much more efficiently than humans, he was still alert to his surroundings, easily traversing around pedestrians and cars.

But, after minutes went by, and the roads diminished in traffic, he still felt that familiar _ping_ of attention from somewhere behind him.

There weren't many people around, he was nearing the residential areas and the apartments. Most were in cars driving by every few seconds.

He made a few turns, just to see if something would change.

It didn’t.

_Someone was following him._

America frowned and kept walking, pocketing his phone with a huff. His ear twitched as he focused on their steps, trying to decipher what kind of citizen was following him.

_Pretty young, not a parent, most likely a minor, male… A normal citizen, but just a little stressed out right now…_

A nagging whim made him want to do something… America couldn’t help but grimace with a small grin. _Alright, kid, let's play…_

He slowed down just as he reached the first alleyway that would lead him back around the block, closer to the kid, then stopped and gave him the brief opportunity to hide, before turning a tad slower than normal.

He only heard the scuff of someone’s sneakers from the corner, hiding.

 _Amateur…_ America smirked and walked into the alley, then Jumped from his spot to the other end, coming out and approaching the end of the block again.

He found the young human trying to spy around the corner and failing to look unsuspicious with his phone, the streetlamps making him even _more_ conspicuous, and America approached silently, not even letting the plastic bags crinkle with unnecessary movements.

Being much taller, he looked over the boy’s shoulder lazily, and whispered, “…Whatcha looking at?”

Naturally, the poor kid spazzed out to step away from him, tripping and falling on his behind, dropping the device, thankfully not breaking it. _Its screen facing the sky, so it caught no image._

The few people walking past them kept their distance, only sending wary glances at the boy, _because why would they suspect America himself?_

He wanted to scoff at how the kid blanched completely upon registering who he was seeing, freezing on the spot, and America tilted his head in response. “Why are you following me?” He wondered quietly.

The kid gulped and looked around stiffly, then at the phone. America focused on it too, raising an eyebrow, _daring him to pick it up._

The boy didn't touch it, in fact, he didn't move at all. Like a frozen bunny, it felt like…

America felt his lips tense at the thought. He didn't like how much _fear_ his own citizen was aiming at him…

He took a deep breath, trying to coerce him to calm down. “Well?” America crouched to see him eye-to-eye, hoping it’d be a little less intimidating.

_Nope. It made things worse._

The kid probably lives around here and spotted America by chance.

Brave, if not a little dumb too.

But the young human only tried to scoot away a bit. “I’m… I’m not…” Ah, he was being cautious and taking a little risk by talking to him, and he also seemed to be struggling with either looking and _not_ looking at America.

America felt a little grin creeping in, eyes narrowing. “Uh-huh… Sure.” He rolled his eyes and stood to walk past the boy, who leaned away like a scared rabbit. America poked him on the forehead anyway which made him squeak and back away further. “Stop following, kiddo. You might get into trouble…”

For the young, a single _suggestion_ was usually enough.

And so, no one follows him this time…

America wouldn’t want _those people_ to know where he lives, to be honest… He’d hate to move a few years earlier than usual…

He sighed tiredly at the prospect.

Near anonymous people in their little _message boards_ online, arduously collecting all possible visual and written data they could find on their so-called _gaians_ or _scions_ or _demigods_ or whatever the hell they were calling his kind nowadays…

Nevermind that he just gave those internet kids a lot to speculate with his actions alone just now, which the boy would no doubt share with his anonymous friends.

The internet was a _wonderful_ thing for networking and mass sharing of intel…

America felt rather dispassionate about the fact that humans are slowly figuring things out on their own, thanks to the internet. It was truly a groundbreaking tool, they probably wouldn't even have managed to reach this point without it…

The world’s changed so much because of it, and it would _continue_ to change. If another change was to happen, then there’s probably nothing he could do at this point…

He’s wondered a few times now, what it would be like to be _known,_ and if fighting the tides was something he wanted to attempt.

Eeh… Maybe not.

Maybe… he should just _let it be._

Yeah… _Maybe._

_But then again… being a public figure with his baggage would really suck._

* * *

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**... **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will vary in length. I doubt they'll usually be long.
> 
> It's kinda based off of 'News Feed', by MayAnny, except I'll try to focus more on _story and character_ rather than real world politics and stuff. I like the worldbuilding done in that story, and I took on some aspects of it. I liked to see nations with their own lives doing their own things instead of being constantly around each other.
> 
> I don't really want this to be politically charged in that manner that annoys people... Like I said, I want to primarily worldbuild a realistic world where 'nations' are a thing, as if I were writing a fantasy book with these interesting mechanics, while possibly depicting what these characters should be like (because God knows the canon version is a little too over-the-top and comedic) and what kind of lives they'd have, what kind of jobs, what kind of troubles and relationships, what do they think of their reality and what they feel about it. 
> 
> I think getting passively involved in the politics of the setting is inevitable due to the nature of these characters.
> 
> **I'm also repeating this again: A character's opinion is NOT my opinion. So... _Don't at me over it._**
> 
> Having this or that character deal with politics and politicians is unavoidable. The beings called 'nations' here are intrinsically linked to governments, so that'll have to do. I think it's an interesting idea to explore, and I like studying history and political philosophy, as well as some psychology on the side. I'll try to be reasonable with every perspective...
> 
> But anyone can be stupid. Just like _anyone_ can be _reasonable,_ no matter their position. 
> 
> One thing I learned online is that **every** possible side is right about something, wrong about something, _and_ hypocritical about something. These vary, but it's how I see it.
> 
> So again, another time, 'Real People' fiction makes me cringe, which is why I'll use fake names, even if you notice they're stand-ins to real-counterparts, they're _technically not supposed to be them,_ which is why I won't bother trying to be so accurate with their personalities, and I'll write them how I feel like it writing them to get to where I need in the plot. (Also, I just really like the name 'Kadar Kuamu' who is the president here, it just _sounds_ so fine).
> 
> Because while this is not supposed to mirror the real world to the point where it feels like biased social commentary, it still won't be all original. Most real-life events happened here too, it's very similar to ours, so you won't be lost. Any divergence can be credited to nations as characters in the setting.
> 
> I want to diverge in a few key aspects involving human-nation relations and the slowburn of humans discovering that they exist. Because I don't think that it'd even happen in one big 'leak'. It'd definitely be veeery slow for a while, before an explosion happens, hm? 
> 
> Also character introspection. Lots and _lots_ of thinking and monologuing internally.
> 
> I'll write more when I feel like it, also if the response isn't _unreasonably hostile for some reason._ Updates will be somewhat slow. Once a month, I think.
> 
> Well, I really wish I didn't have to waterboard anyone with all of these warnings, but hey, we all know how some people are with these things. We've all met at least one _very_ unreasonable person.  
>  **  
> READ ALL THE NOTES BEFORE YOU EVER AT ME OVER POLITICS!  
> **


	2. Try Again, Maybe This Time Will Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. I got a decent response, a little more than I actually expected. lol
> 
> I guess I'm going to partition the chapters, so that while they're shorter, I can update more often. Also, don't mind me doing little edits here and there. Sometimes I mess things up here and there and it takes a while for me to notice. 
> 
> So maybe once a week if I have something ready. Thanks for all the kudos and the few comments, I was a little surprised someone would give such a vague idea a chance. ;D
> 
> Because, yeah, I know it's vague. But hey, worldbuilding is my favorite thing! Followed by developing this version of the characters, of how I see their modern cultures. It's really fun to write this.

**2014**

**February**

**Moscow – 5PM**

Snow glittered with the light of the setting sun, and Russia followed at a sedated pace.

The _little_ _one_ was leading the way to the store like he said he could do. Also hopping on his small feet because he liked the sound of the snow crunching beneath his just-as-little boots.

Russia followed with a small smile, savoring the small moment of peace away from work.

The child was born spontaneously and surprisingly within the last decade, he appeared to humans as a 3-year old. A successor to the many Crimean nations who lived and died one after the other over the centuries.

Certainly a happy one, this one; not at all like Russia himself used to be… _Cold and alone…_

This one was rather cute to watch.

It does make him sad, though. His sister was incredibly upset this time around, and there was little consolation he could offer to placate her.

He left New York utterly empty-handed and disappointed.

She still wanted the child back and didn’t listen to his reasoning, but… _Russia blamed the Europeans… She didn’t hate him this much before…_

Russia sighed out loud. Well, at _this_ point, it was difficult for him to comply with such a demand…

Maybe if the boy hadn’t so willingly held to Russia’s coat and followed him around when he first met him, or even if he hadn't just looked at him like _that…_

At the sound, the boy stopped and turned back with wide, crystal-blue eyes. “Something wrong, Mister Rossiya?”

Russia smiled again. “It’s _‘Ivan’_ while we’re outside the house, little one… And I'm just thinking. Don’t worry.”

“Ah! Sorry… Won’t forget again…” Little Krym nodded and moved along the sidewalk again.

Personally, Russia liked how little _fear_ the child had of him…

Maybe it’s because he was born so recently, and Russia never had the chance to mistreat or hurt him somehow…

It seems like it was always unavoidable, his whole life… For humans and nations alike…

It’s not that Russia was always out to hurt others… Sometimes, he _really_ wasn’t. He couldn’t _help_ being a little bit scary…

…It’s just unfortunate that it’s so _easy_ to _hurt_ them. It’s so easy to hurt people, and he could never tell if the problem was him, or if everyone was just too fragile…

Either way, when the child didn’t let go of his coat, not even with Ukraine’s urging, Russia felt a _little_ something…

And he thought… _Well, he already knew how he could hurt others. So… maybe he could just… **not** hurt this one…_

_If he knew how he did it, he knew how to avoid it then, right…?_

Since he seemed so sweet, well-behaved, and small, harboring no actual fear of him, maybe Russia would have no reason to _ever_ hurt him, and that aspect of it was _severely_ tempting…

So… When _stability evaded his sister and her country,_ Russia just _couldn’t_ have the child involved, could he?

He didn’t want the little one who looked up at him with such innocence to die…

_He could not leave him to that possible fate. Definitely not. His sister’s problems would just bleed on him, and poor little Krym could die so early in his short little life…!_

Russia had to save him, right? It was the right thing to do, even more so when the boy was more than happy to follow Russia back to Moscow…

_He didn’t just kidnap the boy, America…!_

At the thought of his young 'rival'… _for the lack of a better term…_ Russia couldn't help but frown. He shouldn't be surprised at the kid's newfound demeanor… A little more demure, a little less abrasive…

Maybe he did mature a bit after that whole _fiasco_ with the Middle Eastern nations…

But he was also a little volatile now. Less fun. Probably due to what happened soon after this millennium began…

Nations who get attacked don't generally 'mature', but they do generally become more aggressive and reactive to threats…

And Russia did provoke him, on purpose too, and on top of all of that, being weak to provocation had always been America's main problem.

That was bound to cause the occasional explosion…

_That fight last month felt more like letting out steam… and not actual true intent to cause Russia real harm…_

But, _again,_ maybe there was more happening too… Consequences of things _both_ of them were doing back then.

Russia _was_ playing the long-game back then, and America, while following different strategies, was investing in the future too, right…? _They're both still feeling the effects of those days…_

Oh, well, honestly… Russia wouldn't truly know unless he went looking hard, because America would never _ever_ be honest about his troubles to _Russia_ of all nations.

Heh. Hell would freeze over before that happened…

Although, who knows these days?

Things were odd enough for Russia already, just in his own family…

At that thought, his sister Ukraine comes to mind again.

She was just too upset about what happened, about not having Krym, and Russia wasn't sure it was even warranted…

Krym seemed somewhat distant from his sister, after all. And Ukraine never let the little one visit (she barely tolerated Russia’s visits back then), so it was a fun day, showing little Krym around his beautiful capital, letting him meet his president, explore his warm home and cozy up in front of a fire with tasty food and hot chocolate.

It was… a new experience, for both of them, it seems…

_No vassal or ally or any other nation was ever that comfortable and pleasant with Russia…_

_Ah, his little sister would hate to hear that…_

His older sister would understand eventually, though. She was just overly emotional at the moment…

Once the conflicts ceased, she’d calm down and they could talk… _And then, Russia would have no excuse to keep Krym…_

However, that’s a somber topic for another time…

They reached the nearest convenience store.

It was quite a few minutes of walking from his spacious terrain and warm cottage, where he kept some privacy from neighboring humans while still maintaining a comfortable enough proximity to his capital building…

Russia sensed a small disturbance of _anger_ and _fear_ inside and sped up his pace to reach Krym before he could reach the door. “Ah-ah.” And he pulled him a little back by the arm.

The boy stumbled a bit, but was otherwise okay. Russia walked ahead instead.

His worry turned out to be over nothing, as he was only met by two of his people teaching a little lesson to what seemed to be a no-good store robber.

One was probably the cashier, young and working the night-shift for a little bit of money. The other was an elder who he sensed to have fought in a war before…

Ah, Russia preened happily. He’s always happy to see his people taking care of problem-citizens by themselves. Less burden on his government overall.

He approached the counter and waited patiently.

The young cashier huffed and stepped back from a punch at the now downed malcontent, turning to Russia. “Da?” He frowned slightly, and glanced at Krym, then back at Russia.

Russia slid some money, then pointing to a bottle behind. “Aah, the vodka, please.”

The cashier nodded and turned back to pick the right bottle.

The elder man had left the younger robber alone by now, huffing indignantly and stepping back. “No-good brats…” The man muttered more tiredly. “Now, the police?” He grumbled at them.

Russia received his bottle, and the money was placed in its box, the cashier nodding distractedly. “Yes, doing it…”

Krym was leaning beside the counter at the whimpering man who lost the will to struggle and was now waiting to be arrested like a beaten brat. “What did he do…?”

Russia turned back, glancing at the ne'er-do-well too–

But the elder replied first, waving it off. “Just a good-for-nothing thief, boy. Nothing to be concerned about.”

Krym ‘ah’d and then turned to Russia, who nodded and leaned closer, patting his head. “That’s what happens when you try to take what’s not yours, little one.”

The elder scoffed a laugh, and Krym ‘ah’d again, now with a slow nod.

“Good job, have a good night.” Russia took his bottle and smiled at his people, before pulling Krym along by the wrist. “Now come, can you show the way to the park this time?”

“Yeah!”

“Lead the way, then.”

He left the store with a warmer feeling of approval from his people.

 _And humans sure know how to raise smaller humans._ _He was doing something right in their eyes!_

Russia blinked at the shocking thought hit him once again. _He’s raising a child! Oh, what a strange development…!_

He hummed in contentment, watching how Krym stopped before crossing roads, let others pass, didn’t run near elders, didn’t slip on ice…

He was a very good kid.

At a park with a playground, very close to a middle-class residential area, Russia sat at a bench and let Krym exercise on his own around the few human children playing in the snow.

Their parents were probably in that cafe across the street, and he's sure some others are probably keeping an eye from their windows in the neighborhood homes on the other side.

The kids looked at least 5 or 6-years old, and Krym’s small stature seemed to put them off a little.

But it's fine.

Even when they climbed the monkey-bars to gain a foothold above the boy and to segregate him from the rest of them above, Krym climbed with ease, much to their surprise.

Russia smiled in amusement and focused on his phone, clicking buttons rapidly to reply to messages while taking sips of vodka, partially ignoring the children's squeals and laughs…

Nothing quite urgent in his messages… _Some of it was just about getting ready to welcome nations into his country for the Winter Olympics he was hosting this year…_ Russia hummed, scratching his cheek. _This was going to be another tense and awkward winter event, no doubt…_

So Russia had to get back to the Kremlin soon… Inevitable, because typing everything he wanted to say in this annoyingly tiny keyboard would test his patience…

Maybe he could just call…?

But eeh, maybe he _should_ get one of America’s fangled new smartphones… They seemed to be more efficient, easier to use, and even Russia had to admit they looked cool and useful…

But it was _American_ branded… The thought of being seen using it in front _America_ made his stomach twist a little… _He just knew the tough little brat would give him that smug and punchable face…_

But the one he had was already pretty old, too… And he did hate the tiny buttons…

…Oh, what a dilemma…

Well, his president would just have to wait until he was done walking with Krym, then. _He was sure he wanted to talk about what they'd do about Krym… Russia hoped his president would let him keep the boy… It seemed likely, the two got along well enough…_

_The man told Russia to be kind to the little child…_

By the time Russia felt a colder wind approaching the area, his bottle was already almost empty.

Then– _“Oh, shit!”_ A teenage voice sounded, and quite a few things seemed to have happened while Russia was distracted.

A young man had arrived in the park, maybe relative of one of the kids, and he had a spike of fear suddenly; maybe because Krym had climbed to the top of the monkey-bars, apparently, before promptly jumping off high with a flip and landing on his feet, lifting his arms in triumph as the other kids reacted in awe and cheering squeals.

The teen had approached the bars running as if he wanted to catch the child, but was too late and stopped with a snowy screech of his shoes.

Krym looked at him, and then preened some more with the other amazed kids.

Russia sighed, turning off the phone and pocketing it for now. _There’s always one._

_Maybe Russia should have told Krym to be a little more careful around human children when playing… They couldn’t really jump around like that at his apparent age… but…_

_Oh, well… Nothing to be really concerned about. Russia himself had acted inhuman in front of children when he was a child himself, and back then, it was arguably much worse to do so…_

_As long as Russia disappeared quickly enough, it was fine._

He stood and whistled sharply, catching Krym’s attention, along with everyone else.

Russia jerked his head to the side, and Krym understood, his little shoulders slumping, but he obeyed with no complaints, following after him.

The kids were moving on, chatting excitedly, but the teen was staring.

Russia ignored that.

A minute of walking in silence– “I’m sorry… Are you mad? Mister Ivan…?”

Russia breathed in and out, then turned to Krym. “No, nothing's wrong. You’ll just have to stay inside for a few days, hear?”

“Yes, sir…”

“Good boy.”

Krym was still young, and to be fair, his sister, while distant and focused on her government and its decaying state, never let the little one get hurt… So he likely never learned this lesson the hard way like most nations did.

So it’s a learning process for Russia, just like it was for Krym.

They’d work on this together, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Social media things won't be in every chapter, btw.
> 
> I think modern Russia, as a character, would definitely be a lot calmer and kinder than in his Soviet years. Like, he learned something and in a way came out better for it... I like the idea of Russia trying to raise a little nation-kid and maybe fairly succeeding (or at least, being better than he'd have been in the past).
> 
> Also yes, I'm aware of the lack of self-awareness on the 'taking what's not yours' thing. That's the joke.
> 
> I also want to have a side-story for historical-shots, more social media posts, or extra scenes from this story. Whatever I can't fit here, I'll just add there eventually. There's a lot of historical context I can't really add here without massive excerpts of exposition and introspection.
> 
> I think I'll only stay in 2014 for some character prologues (a quick POV scene for Japan, Germany, England, and China), before I jump to 2015 for the first plotline. Then 2016 for the second one. So on and so forth.


	3. Old Habits Die Hard, But Not All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short, but a week away from the last one, so I think it's okay. :) I'll be skipping month by month for a few chapters to get through all the build-up parts I need for the first plotline.

**2014**

**March**

**Tokyo – 7AM**

Irrelevant of whatever was happening in the world, or even at home, Japan treasured his moments of peace…

Everyday, at 7 o’clock, he’d don his best traditional clothes in red and white – _well-tailored and formal, with a haori on top_ – and walk out of the palace where he lived with his imperials, to head all the way to the East Gardens, and then towards the _Kitanomaru_ _Gardens_ where his special place was.

It was further off the path most commonly traveled by commuters visiting this public part of the Imperial Garden.

A shrine, old and weathered, but spacious and well-tended to, especially these days.

As customary, Japan took the time to clean any leaves, water the plants, and wipe any dust. He was the first there to do so despite the hired hand.

It served as a personal excuse to push work aside for a few hours.

Cleaning his old shrine was relaxing, after all.

Despite the respite the birds brought to his solitude, however, Japan still welcomed the morning visitors he usually got every day…

That’s not to say they all came every day, which means he had different regulars, with most visiting during the weekends, naturally…

Most of them were elders, usually accompanied by a younger family member to help them on the weekends.

Most of the regular attendants of his shrine knew him at this point. They’ve been visiting this place for prayers and blessings for years, as the imperial shrine was commonly known to house a real land-god, according to old whispers, and…

This _‘young_ _man’_ cleaning the shrine every time they visited never seems to change…

Japan wouldn’t cease his morning rituals for such a modern notion of maintaining even spiritual distance from his people, he needed his solace back then…

So he stayed, and he let them notice.

He said nothing, and did nothing but provide his presence and witness their prayers, which were given to the shrine, at first…

Eventually, they grew old and began to greet him differently.

There was reverence and deference to him, and more often than not, prayers _felt_ more directed at him, and eventually, they began to bring him gifts, too.

‘Offerings’, actually. He accepted them graciously.

The shrine was further filled with life over time, reminding him of the olden days, now with many charms and their written wishes hung, more coins in the shrine and more offerings brought.

It wasn’t long before Japan found himself giving small blessings like he used to, so long ago, and it was hard to hide his flustered reaction at first.

It was rather nostalgic…

It became his routine, for many decades, starting not long after the war, _a time when he desperately sought peace, if only so the nightmares and the pain would stop…_

He supposed that his people helped him finally recover, and truly, Japan couldn’t be any more grateful.

Of _course_ he’d give them blessings…

He _loved_ them, and it just pained him to remember how long it took him to realize they weren’t disposable resources paid in exchange of ‘greater rewards’…

They weren’t simply possessions, a currency a nation pays for rewards, like sacrificed _blood_ at an altar for the future he sought…

Such a terrible mentality he’d acquired in his long life…

…Things weren’t always easy between him and them, after all… Every ‘land god’ seemed to have their fair share of grievances with their own.

_He knows these grievances… He knows it boiled over the edge with stress… He remembers all of his late siblings on his own islands, so many of them who passed away with so much disappointment and loathing for their own people…_

_For failing them and letting them die…_

_Although… He had seen it manifest in pure grief and terror instead…_

_The mere thought makes him shudder. Bad memories from nightmares…_

Japan figured that he ought to learn better habits, and this was his favorite result of many so far…

He enjoyed feeling their prayers, receiving their offerings, holding their hand when he gave them a blessing.

The years went by with this… Each New Year bringing more during the festivities, until his shrine became another typical spot for small festivals for these holidays…

After a while, he’s gotten used to having more citizens visiting with the intent of being commemorative as well as reverent, and the general area outside the shrine was eventually expanded into a larger extension around the 90's, with more places people could sit and have some tea, set up little festival stands for games, maybe play him in a game of _shogi_ or _koi-koi,_ maybe share some saké…

Giving him a wonderful excuse to skip any responsibilities and be present during the revelries instead.

Thus…

It’s an odd change of pace when he begins to see _youth_ much more often again in the shrine, year-round.

They usually accompanied their elders, to help carry things, and were also usually admonished by said elders for not turning off their phones and for getting distracted.

Japan didn’t take any offense.

However, at some point, he realized he was seeing youths _on their own_ too.

They didn’t quite direct anything at him, but it was much like the elders at first, back when _that_ generation was young, seeking comfort after the war just as much as Japan himself, when Japan first took to this habit and when the garden became a public park…

Japan had really felt that his last few generations wouldn't have these visiting habits like their elders… More materialistic, more secular, less likely to care about spirituality like the elders…

But maybe he was just wrong.

This year’s New Year was particularly crowded again, compared to years before.

It was nice… Maybe he should have predicted this, of course…

The younglings did see their elders quite literally praying to him after giving him offerings, even if he mirrored their gestures as blessings in return… Some of them grew up seeing it, and with the internet, maybe it's just spread that far…

He wonders what it must have looked like without any context…

And these kids here? Did the elders explain when asked? Most likely, but Japan wasn’t going to ask what they shared.

He’d just leave the youth be, if they intended to keep visiting his shrine.

And… that’s about when the first issues began…

_Tourists._

His shoulders dropped in dismay every time he saw them, but he pushed himself to keep from staring, and just in time too, because when he hears a camera's click, it makes him twitch.

…It’s not that he disliked foreigners – _okay, maybe he did, just a little… tiny… bit –_ he just didn’t like it when they were so disrespectful… _sometimes…_

_Not all of them, of course, he knew… But a few were… Maybe a few too many…_

It’s in one such day, on a warm weekend, when the snow has long melted, when Japan followed his now usual routine of accepting offerings and blessing his citizens.

Tourists are a rare and _unwelcome_ addition, and Japan rarely felt like they wanted to see _him._ It was more that the shrine became an attractive spot for them over time.

He’s sure pictures were taken of him too, for some reason, and it does give him a bad feeling, of course, but…

As previously stated, Japan wasn’t about to quit his habits, least of all because of foreigners.

He did that in the past, and he didn’t feel like doing it again, not for _this…_

So he ignored it.

Until _this_ point.

It began with a camera and loud laughter and speaking, it reminded him of America when he was particularly tipsy and devoid of his composure and shame…

The accent alone gave it away.

That’s not to say American tourists were the worst, they usually had a satisfying amount of reverence for his culture, _and lots of money to spend._

But some of their habits did annoy Japan, including the ‘talking loudly’ part, _followed by the inability to hold chopsticks properly and how they butchered his language… But these last few went for most Westerners too…_

These ones didn’t seem too interested in Japan, and were instead just looking around and chatting too loudly. Even his elder citizens were sending them wary glances when they interrupted their prayers.

Japan narrowed his eyes, sighing, trying not to grimace in front of his people.

_This wasn’t a place for this nonsense… This was a shrine. It’s a religious site, and it’s Japan’s personal place of worship…_

Japan keeps watching the three of them even inside the shrine, open for humans to see… His elderly citizens leave him alone temporarily, noting his behavior.

The inside of the shrine is decorated with some of his older possessions, such as a beautiful and worn sword, perched on a pedestal marking it as the most important object in the room.

_He’s a deity of the land, born to battle. A weapon is the sacrosanct symbol of his being, naturally–_

And the disrespectful _little shit_ is getting too close to it. _'_ _Oh, cool, pointy object–!' No._

Japan would have had guards, except _his_ citizens were _never_ this callous.

“Excuse me…” He stared fixedly and pulled out his phone, quickly dialing the number he needed, walking off to have some distance from any ears.

It rang about four times before it picked up– _“Yo, Kiks, what’s up?”_

Japan kept staring. “Hello, sorry for the sudden call…” He greeted in English, drawing the attention of the elders, just as the absolute _brats_ touched his precious sword. Japan held himself back, lips pressed thin, and walked away further. “I’ve got a few of _yours_ here, and they’re disrespecting a sacred shrine… I wanted to ask if I could deliver punishment.” _They picked it up…?! Oh, the little–!_

 _“Oh, man. Sorry about that…”_ America sounded appropriately embarrassed. _“Uhm, sure, just… don’t go nuts, they’re still mine. A whack should do, no hospital.”_

Japan nodded with a deadpan. “No hospital, I understand. Sorry for the trouble…”

He heard a sigh on the other end. _“Yeah, whatever, dude. You can send them home if you need to, I’ll pay the extra expense…”_

“That’s not necessary, but thank you, Alfred-San… Have a good night.”

 _“Yeah, sure… G’night.”_ It’s morning for Japan, but America misses that on purpose every time.

Just one of America’s little shows of dominance, which were usually passive and petty like this… Japan tisked quietly and hung up, walking towards the tourists who needed a quick lesson. 

Sometimes it was hard to believe a human could be so carelessly oblivious while walking around in foreign territory…

Japan was still _not_ used to the whole notion of it…

He no longer has enough soft power to personally dish out punishment without permission from _their_ sovereign nation – _in this case, America –_ but in the past, it wasn’t odd for any nation to severely punish foreign humans for _any_ perceived disrespect.

America was levelheaded and okay with a little reality-check, so long as blood wasn’t drawn, so Japan would have to be content with that…

They didn’t hear him approach, as they clearly expected to be able to pick up what wasn't theirs and put it back in its place without anyone noticing, _maybe because they weren't punished for such as children._

Japan’s presence barely registered before he was close enough to snatch the weapon out of the young man’s hand, ignoring his yelp of surprise, then promptly turning the scabbard, its tip hitting the American on the forehead with a quick and hard whack.

Just enough to hurt, but not bleed, and he stumbled back with a pained shout. “Ow, ow, ouch…! What the fuck, man!” The human turned to him, wide, heated eyes and in shock, hand pressing against the bump that’d darken later, while the other two become defensive.

Japan turned the scabbard coolly and planted the tip hard against the wooden floor, the sound echoed slightly and his hands rested atop its hilt. “Out.” He hissed sharply in English, eyes dark, jerking his head to the exit.

Humans can tell when they’re facing a nation, instinctually, even if it’s not their nation.

A foreign nation showing hostile intent would feel more like being in the presence of a _dragon._ An ingrained feeling of _danger._

Which is why their anger evaporates, replaced by cautious fear. “O-Oh, shit, dude, okay, calm down… Sheesh…” They take heed to that order and patter out, hands lightly raised.

Japan waits until they’re outside to calmly place the sword back on its pedestal, shaking his head and muttering in his own tongue once again. _“How dare they… This blade is older than their great-grandparents…”_

He’s more upset than angry, to be honest…

When he walked out, and squinted under the sun, slipping through the leaves of the trees above the shrine, he exhaled in relief. Well, that was mildly satisfying…

“Y-Yamato-Sama, is everything alright?” One of his citizens asks once he approaches.

Japan nodded, brushing his clothes a bit. “Yes, thank you… I was just a little ruffled, nothing to be concerned about.” He smiled, offering his hands. “So, where were we?”

Japan pushed the event out of his mind, proceeding with his usual morning routine.

_He really wonders sometimes, what this must look like…_

_His actions, his presence, his appearance._ _He could deduce, but he could never truly experience it as they do, the wonder and reverence and awe he could see in his citizens’ faces._

_But he likes his position…_

_Despite everything, in moments like these, he feels like everything was worth it…_

* * *

**6.5K** The video from Japan, allow me to explain its context.  
submitted 2 days ago * by ginko_ya12  
  


Hello. I’m Japanese, so excuse my English if anything is written wrong.

I've only found this site recently, and I've been reading for about two weeks. But now, there’s a lot of misunderstanding about what happened in the video, so let me explain in the simplest way I can manage.

The place you all saw was the Yamato Shrine, in one of the gardens near the Imperial Palace. It’s a shrine made to represent the original shrine made thousands of years ago as a home to a land-god (a 'Jinushigami' 地主神), a deity who the oldest history books written from that time called 'Ōtoshi Yamato' (大年神, 日本大国魂神) the Great-Year God, and Spirit of the Great Nation (the characters translate loosely to words like 'great year', 'god', 'Japan', 'power', and 'soul'), commonly known as the 'spirit of the ancestors' as well, also shortened to 'Toshigami' or just 'Yamato'. The name Yamato was for who one of the first Rice Kingdoms of Japan was named after, it's the ancient name of the nation, in a way. According to folklore, there had many land-gods in the land, and each kingdom took to worshiping one, who’d then bless the kingdom's lands with fertility, the people's souls with sense of belonging and connection to the ancestors, and with protection from their enemies and also from other land-gods, because they tended to be hostile or competitive with one another over territory, and often killed humans outside their protection. 

Every year now, on New Year festivals, my grandparents take me and my family to this shrine to celebrate. For these last few years, a lot of people go there too, it’s usually pretty full, from Christmas to New Year, it's like any festival. It’s probably the most important shrine in the country at this point, although restrictions to get in are still very loose, and there are people from everywhere in Japan who travel to visit it at least once a year. A lot of these people are older people, usually old enough to have seen or even fought in WWII. They visit with offerings to ‘Yamato’ the land-god, and to pray for blessings. There are younger generations who picked this up from their elders and kept the habit, irreligious or not. It's tradition for some by now.

My grandparents visit the shrine to pray every few weeks or so, sometimes week to week if they can since we live nearby. Occasionally, I go with them. It started because my parents wanted me to spend more time with them. But every time I visited with them, there was someone cleaning in the morning. The guy in the video, that they call ‘Yamato-Sama’. People who visit regularly, especially the elders, treat him like an elder to them. I noted that my grandparents handed the offerings to him, and they also seem to pray with him, or even to him. Many who visit seems to do the same. During festivals, he tends to wander around and be very friendly and usually shares saké or plays tabletop games with the elders. There's not a lot of talking like there is with normal people, since they don't feel they have the right to ask anything about him or his past, or even exactly who he is. It's like it's just an unspoken agreement. 

The thing about it, though, is that my grandparents and many other elders, genuinely believe that the guy in the video is Yamato himself, the Toshigami. They say he’s been there, unaging, since they first began visiting after the war, and it seems other people of age say the same, that he’s an actual god or spirit of the land. I’m not sure how many people believe this literally, and how many just have the superstition about land-gods on itself, or just basic reverence for the shrine, but at the moment, there’s talk about closing the shrine to foreigners because of this whole thing.

The reason why people are so upset about the blatant disrespect shown in the video, is not just at everything else they did while touring Tokyo (most people didn't see the whole video, just that part of it), it’s really that a lot of the elder population believe that the Yamato Shrine houses a real land-god, and that touching things inside and filming for attention at the shrine was equivalent to sacrilege, like they were insulting Yamato himself. I don’t know about the ‘land-god’ thing really, but the man they call Yamato plays the part either way. He does act like a deity, from what I've seen. He may be the same war-crazed lunatic I saw in the WWII archives here, but I just know my grandparents would never believe him to be some kind of monster. They revere him too much, and to this section of the population who are aware that he’s an actual person, he’s literally worshiped, and that’s spreading down the generations, especially with the internet here.

Which leads me to how viral the video is, since a lot of people actually enjoyed seeing a belligerent tourist get whacked for the disrespect to our culture. Elders and young alike enjoy watching and sharing it, independently of what they believe in.

It's also worth mentioning, however, that me and my grandparents were there at the time of the event, and I ended up not filming it because my phone was turned off at the request of my grandmother. But I did see Yamato call someone on the phone before the events of the video. I wasn't close enough to hear what was being said, and it was a short conversation, which was immediately followed by what was in the video. It seemed like he was letting someone know that he was going to hurt someone, but I don't know why or who that was. 

The rest you know, and it was honestly funny to see it personally, and I'm sure the only reason these YTbers' complaints were dismissed so quickly was exactly because Yamato was the one who smacked them and kicked them out.

This is not normal, but the guards in charge of leading tourists and visitors around the Imperial Palace seem to know what's going on better than most.

* * *

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always liked the idea that Japan was or would be worshiped as some sort of land-god, the 'Toshigami' deity. This gets a little confusing, with all the names, but from what I've read, the 'Jinushigami' is _a_ deity, like a generic definition, while the 'Toshigami' is the _name_ of a deity. The Toshigami page in the wiki is interesting, since it links a lot of the things mentioned in this last note, and I do love when real things support my Hetalian Headcanons. 
> 
> Who'd have thought the biggest hint of what they are would be so explicitly stated in Japanese folklore? lol
> 
> I may have mixed or messed up some kanji, since I don't actually speak Japanese, so I apologize if I did. :D
> 
> Also yes, the whole little incident with the Americans was indeed based on that whole fiasco with a certain YouTuber. 
> 
> I have this idea that a nation would probably need some permission to bring any level of harm to the citizens of another nation, because otherwise it'd create bad blood between the two, like it was an insult or rudeness or that sort of thing (I still want to go over some codes of conduct between nations, and other things that vary in different cultures for them). Even worse if it ends in death or grievous harm.  
> And I imagine America would be a little tired of other nations calling him over American tourists acting a little too rudely (I don't think Americans are the worst, tbh), and would probably accept a little harm as long as there's no lasting damage. I don't see America as the kind of 'protective' that is suffocating to other nations to the point of causing humiliation, although I'm sure the line is drawn very explicitly.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, this is fun to write!


	4. Guilty as Charged, But Don't Hurt Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorty one, 2K words. The one after this with England is also short, and China's will be a little longer. But after that, I'll be done with prologues for the main POVs and I'll start on the 2015 plot.

**2014**

**April**

**Berlin – 9AM**

Germany stared in abject horror at the front of his current house, suitcase slipping from his lax hand.

_I KNOW WHO YOU ARE_

Scribbled rather distastefully in red spray paint, right at the front for everyone in this neighborhood to see.

He gulps, standing utterly frozen, unable to look away, hearing nothing but his drumming heartbeat.

_Ooh… He knew it was going to be a problem… He knew it was going to be trouble… He knew it, he **knew** it…! He said so…! America didn't listen! Prussia didn't listen…! Belgium didn't listen! No one took him nearly as seriously as they should when it came to this issue._

And Germany can't help but clench his fists. _Of course, it wasn't that much trouble for **them** if the humans knew! But what about Germany? He couldn't take this, not like this, not like **this–**_

"Herr Beilschmidt?" A young voice called, startling him badly.

He recomposed himself, taking off the glasses briefly to rub his face, before turning to the young man who lived next to him for the last two years. "Ja, Herr Mintz…?" He sounds so tired already…

Young Mintz was in his early 20's, in a small rented home from his grandparents, and he was looking at the vandalism with wide-eyes. "What happened here?"

"Just…" Germany grimaced and shook his head. "I… 've wronged people before… I-I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised…" He sighed and picked the suitcase, walking back inside, leaving the door open.

He left his work on the living room table, then took his jacket off, rolling his sleeves, and then took cleaning supplies from the closet and sat them outside, feeling itchy to get rid of those words, least anyone else saw it…

Mintz was still outside, looking up at the message, making Germany feel painfully self-conscious. _Oh, what is he thinking… What would anybody think? Would they assume the worst? They wouldn't be wrong, but Germany didn't like to deal with humans who knew who he was and what he did, it was hard not to fidget when someone was so clearly thinking about it with their eyes on him…_

Mintz saw the supplies, one eyebrow lifting. "Do you need some help, Herr Beilschmidt…?"

Germany shook his head, getting to work right away. "No, thank you. I…" _I deserve this–_ "I'm fine…"

Mintz didn't leave, only crossed his arms. "But… who did you wrong this badly? I mean, you're what, _19?"_ Sounded like genuine curiosity, and… something _else_ that made Germany's skin crawl with the familiar sting of guilt.

"23, actually…" By human standards, he certainly _looked_ 19 or 20… His government preferred to take it up to 23, and…

 _Wait._ A sudden realization sprung to his mind. _Wasn't one of Mintz's grandparents Jewish…? Oh… right…_

…It's _not_ that he had a _problem_ with that, _he did **not.** That's **not** why it made him uncomfortable… It's just…_

Looking at one of them, or their descendants, it always felt like prodding a wound, one he caused to himself… _It hurt; it stung with regret and horror and fright, all tangled up with the memories into a messy bag._

_It's awareness that it was going to scar, a perpetual reminder of the… the monster in the cage._

_That terrifying 'thing' that he knew still lived in his own head, it was still in his blood, he **felt** it sometimes._

_The beast he's kept locked up ever since the end of the war._

_It was there, just **waiting** for him to drop his guard and infect his mind…_

Germany didn't stop his cleaning, scrubbing the walls with some force. "I wasn't a very good person, a while ago… Don't ask, please." And that's the trouble… with the fact that humans were figuring _something_ out on their own, left to make their own conclusions…

They had no context whatsoever… _although he wondered how much that was even worth…_

And Germany couldn't even bring himself to lie, if he were cornered and questioned about it…

If he were directly confronted about it, he wouldn't be able to pretend that he was innocent…

He couldn't do it…

And the apology _demanded, in that case,_ would be hollow, because to him, _words_ don't matter, _actions do._

_He's been working non-stop ever since for a reason. Words don't matter, what he does with himself matters._

"Right…" Mintz mutters, backing away. "Well, sorry to hear that, Herr Beilschmidt. I'm sure it won't happen again, if… if you're good now…"

Gott, he _hoped_ so… Although, it's likely he'd have to move to another place again… Germany breathes in deep, then releases. "Yes… Thank you…"

He's left cleaning alone – _scrub, scrub –_ his mind spinning with bad memories – _scrub, scrub –_ and the underlying dread of knowing that this was possibly from someone who knew who he was, who he's likely never met, who knew where he currently lived somehow – _scrub, scrub –_ maybe saw pictures, saw _who_ _he_ _was,_ and didn't believe he's changed – _scrub, scrub–_

He _could_ change – _scrub, scrub –_ he _did._

He's _not_ that nation anymore– _scrub, scrub–_ Germany stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. The thoughts alone gave him such discomfort… He could tell there were eyes on him occasionally even now, maybe wondering what did he even do to warrant this…

He heard a car, and the presence felt familiar, so he relaxed, continuing to scrub the walls clean.

_…9 in the morning…? Really…? That's a record for him…_

By the time the car stopped in front of his house, the words were mostly incoherent. Tires screeched against the asphalt, the engine was turned off, the door opened–

"Oh, what the fuck…" Then closed. It was Prussia's disbelieving tone that approached. His brother's boots ascended the small stairs heavily. "What's _this_ shit now?" As always, his brother was dressed as civilian-like as possible, jeans and jacket, with only the military boots and the Iron Cross necklace standing out.

He never wore a suit, and rarely interacted with their government, or even with any official business… _Honestly, Germany would appreciate some help, but… that just wasn't his brother's style, it seems…_

Germany shut out the feeling of eyes on both of them. "Where have you been?" He asked tersely.

"That doesn't matter…!" Prussia dismissed the question with a defensive edge and walked inside, and after some clunking and doors opening, came back with another scrub, crouching by the bucket for the detergent and water, before he began helping without being asked to.

He would, whether Germany asked or not.

"Well, this is shit…" Prussia exhaled the words tiredly. "What was written here?" He asked, giving Germany a prodding glance.

Germany narrowed his eyes. "…Words… From someone who knows…"

Prussia hummed, understanding without further context. "I suppose it'll be a little harder to hide from now on…" He blinked, stopping just to point vaguely at him. "But you shouldn't be getting so anxious about it."

"How can I _not…?!"_ Germany snapped and hissed back without turning to him.

Prussia only stopped for a moment, before continuing. "If it _does_ come to that, which I'm not even sure _could,_ it'll be _worse_ if you're still blaming yourself."

Germany gritted his teeth and gripped the brush, stopping and then throwing it into the bucket, walking inside in a huff, and closing the door harshly.

 _"Oh, for… You gotta talk to that shrink of yours about this one, Lutz…!"_ Prussia drawled outside.

But Germany didn't respond, and lay on the couch, rubbing his face. He could hear Prussia scrubbing the wall outside, much quicker and harder than before.

He needed to think… _What will he do when people inevitably realized that someone like him was still alive and still working for the government…? It'd look downright menacing, especially with no context…_

_How long until such a theory made its way downstream? It hasn't even gone that far and his current house has already been vandalized._

_But could it be stopped?_ He covered his eyes with his arm. _The thought of his people being aware of his existence, and aware of what he did…_

_It'd give him nightmares…_

Prussia eventually finished and brought the supplies in, leaving everything by the door before he closed it as well.

"I'm pissed off about this too, Lutz." Prussia said from the other end of the couch.

Germany shook his head, not looking from behind his arm. "You don't _sound_ like you are." He remarked sourly.

"That's because I'm not blaming myself so hard that my half of the Germans feel it!"

Germany didn't budge, but he pointed at his brother with his other hand. " _You_ just obeyed orders. _I_ actively made things _worse._ I had the chance to stop it and I _didn't._ Don't. compare. the two…!" He hissed the last words.

And Prussia _knew_ that, which is why he gave up on that line of argument right away. "Well… Wasn't that what that _European Counseling_ shit was trying to fix?"

"They can't fix the past…" Germany muttered.

"Oh, for Christ's sake…"

_Because that's the root of the problem…_

_So many times he's felt tempted to check what was happening in the virtual world… To know what they knew, if they knew the worst parts…_ _But he could never do it…_

_He's too afraid of what he'll find…_

" _Clearly_ , most of Europe forgave you by now, so I'd consider that _close_ to fixing, no?"

"They're not like humans," Germany grumbled. "It's not _comparable."_

"Of _course_ it is. You were a _kid…!"_

"I was more than a century-old. I was a kid to _you."_

_What if there were the pictures…? Germany knew he was probably spotted several times by a camera back then, but nations never had the time to learn to be careful with that; cameras were such a new invention, and for most of its existence, it wasn't available to most, and thus…_

_Germany never learned to care either._

_But he knew those pictures existed. He's seen them, he's tried to burn them, even._

_His government wanted things archived, however…_

_And he's been told that hiding from his past by burning it wouldn't help… That's **their** habit, burning things, burning records, books!_

_He had to quit that…!_

_He had to keep the reminders…!_

_But by Gott, how he **hated** these pictures… He truly loathed them, with fiery scorn he never wanted to feel again. They made him so sick…!_

_He could tolerate the feeling, however, when it was aimed at himself, and at the disgusting ease with which he held himself in those pictures…_

_How easily he smiled in the presence of monsters, blissfully unaware of how bad it all was, because he was just as rotten as them._ _It was warranted to hate it, even more so when it's in front of him._

_Especially those pictured with… with **that** man… That **fucking** bastard…! Both of them were monsters of the **worst** degree…! How could anyone see **that** and ever think of **not** blaming him…?!_

_Those pictures were old, but it'd still be so obviously easy to compare his appearance then to how he looks now…_

_Even if he tried to make himself look different, wearing glasses, different clothes, styling his hair a little differently…_ _Maybe it was all for naught, he still looked the same after all…!_

"What are you _doing?"_ Prussia asked, quizzically and quietly.

Germany sighed out loud. "Thinking…" He droned.

A soft scoff. "Okay…? What about who just _vandalized_ our place?"

"I don't know who did it…"

"Don't you want to find out?"

"Not really… We'll just move."

 _"Again…?!_ We _barely_ got here! Been two years!"

Germany glanced at his brother from under his arm, already exhausted of this. "What do you expect me to do?"

Prussia gave him a deadpan glare. "Look into this a little?" He suggested, gesturing around vaguely. "You'd know if anyone followed you here, and the only people who'd know where you live are the people who live here. Maybe ask around, look for suspicious people, or something."

Germany barely listened, but it did register as something he didn't want to do. "Go door to door to _question_ people, hm?"

"Nothing wrong with _asking_ if anyone saw who wronged you, Lutz, for fuck's sake…"

"I don't want to make a ruckus out of this, brother… Maybe they had their reasons, it doesn't _matter."_ Germany covered his eyes again.

He heard Prussia sighing loudly and after a few seconds of silence, he promptly sat on Germany's midsection, making him huff breathlessly.

A few more seconds, then– "Get off, Brother." Germany muttered with a deadpan.

"Not until you _quit_ that."

"What…?!" Germany almost stuttered in disbelief. "Just… Move…!" He moved to push him off–

Only for Prussia to grab his wrists and stop it. "Make me!"

"This is–" Germany huffed and struggled. " _so_ childish! Quit it!"

"No, _you_ quit it!"

"Quit what?!"

"That… _stupid_ self-pity!" Prussia hissed. "You're not even the toughest nation out there, yet you still act like you're holding a key to the _gates of hell! Quit it!"_

"Shut up and get off of meee!" Germany struggled, although… he could probably overpower his brother. Prussia was a lot stronger than he was just a few decades ago, but he still wasn't as strong as he once was even longer ago… But Germany didn't like applying force… _It shouldn't be necessary!_ So he stopped struggling and just glared. "I have to go to work. Get off of me."

"No." Prussia glared right back.

But Germany was infinitely more patient than his brother, and so he held his gaze in silence, not reacting.

Prussia narrowed his eyes. Several seconds went by, and his foot started tapping. "Not saying anything?"

Germany didn't respond and rolled his eyes, knowing damn well his brother could see he wasn't compromising or budging. Just waiting.

Another several seconds, and Prussia growled and threw his arms up in annoyance. "Fine! Be that way, you brat!" He finally stood, crossing his arms, almost in petulance.

Germany scoffed in disbelief as he sat up. "Look who's talking."

"I'm serious, though." Prussia only turned half-way to him. "If this ends badly, you _can't_ be your own worst enemy. Your Germans will just copy you…" _'And be your enemy too…'_ went unsaid. "Maybe not all of them, I'm sure plenty of your own will love you anyway, but you're not making it easy for them…"

Germany rubbed his eyes, shaking his head impatiently. "Well… Maybe I deserve it, then." It's not the first time they've had this argument…

And he did deserve it… Maybe he shouldn't fight it… Maybe he should simply _wait_ to get his just comeuppance; he's sure someone will figure out a way to do that…

Prussia let out a disbelieving, breathless laugh. "Oh, I…" He sighed and shook his head. "I _hate_ that fucking self-pity of yours, y'know…? I really do…"

Germany stood and went to collect his things, not saying another word.

He understood that his brother just cared about him, and was just upset about Germany seemingly hurting himself…

Germany wasn't emotionally stupid, and neither was Prussia…

But…

Germany didn't know how to move on, he didn't even think he could, or even be _capable_ of doing such a thing… and part of him probably didn't _want_ to do that.

_Another part of him was a little jealous of his brother… Maybe the years of suffering under Soviet rule felt like enough punishment, and Prussia felt like his dues were paid…_

_This,_ however, was how Germany was paying his own dues… All of his investment in the EU, all the hours spent, all the effort, the money…

It was all for _peace._

Germany has worked relentlessly, tirelessly, _continuously_ all these years with no breaks, _all_ to make sure no war would _ever_ break out in Europe again…

But at some point, it felt less like self-imposed punishment and more like a responsibility…

Something he _wanted_ to do.

Not because he was _told_ to do it, but because it was something that felt right, _for once_ in his damn life…

He _liked_ having a real, morally _good_ reason to wake up in the morning.

His brother just doesn't understand…

And… as Germany took his suitcase, heavy with files, and left the house in silence, with his brother left brooding on the couch and unhappy with yet another argument about this exact topic…

…He genuinely felt that the German people wouldn't understand either…

After all, if not even his brother could, what chance did the German people have?

Every time he leaves a private space, he feels eyes on him, and the future _terrifies_ him because of it… They wouldn't understand, and he couldn't blame them…

Because he knew his brother was right.

They'd probably _hate_ him just as much as he hates himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see Germany's character as particularly self-abating, self-pitying, and apologetic to the point of being a little annoying, yes. Prussia is a little tired of it. And I like writing Prussia as the kind of annoying brother who sits on you to make a point.
> 
> Also, in this fic, Germany looks younger than he does in canon modern age. Like, he shouldn't look older than America. lol I know their aging is not strictly about actual age, but it's still kinda how I see him. Just… a _little_ younger, not as buff, but still probably an inch taller than Prussia. It should be clear who's older, though. Also, the last thing I think Germany would want is to resemble his old self from the war, so I think he'd refrain from any militaristic styles, and would probably style his hair to be a little more business-like instead.
> 
> So here, the mere probability of their existence being revealed would terrify him the most. Although North Italy wouldn't be far behind him. Japan is probably not very worried, I'm sure he'd think he's been punished already.
> 
> But hey, 32 kudos, 6 bookmarks by chapter 3, that's a steady rate. I hope I can keep making this story more and more interesting, and hopefully earn more comments. :) There's lots of stuff I wanna try that I don't often see in this 'nations revealed' genre.


	5. Let’s Be Friends While We Can, Aye?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short, but a scene with England and France bickering is always fun to write.

**2014**

**May**

**Brussels –** **Berlaymont Building** **– 9PM**

“I did _not_ throw anything at his _face._ I did, however, throw it at his _head._ T’was warranted.” England relayed the facts neatly, angling his chin away from France on the usual seat next to him, who returned the gesture in kind.

The clock on the wall still ticked, obnoxiously loud for such a room.

 _“You were drunk.”_ France sniffed primly in French. _“Can’t handle a little sportsmanship even while sober; I didn’t expect any better at that point.”_

“Speak English, you gormless frog. It is the Lingua Franca, no?”

_“Yes, but if I recall properly, even your own court preferred the sinuous beauty of my language instead of that crass mesh of sounds you communicate so poorly in. They liked me better than you too, remember?”_

“They liked you because you were a _whore.”_ England hissed, then smirked as he leaned closer, elbow on the arm of his chair. “No, excuse me. You _still_ are.”

 _“Be as petty as you please, you little gremlin,”_ France smirked right back, brows furrowing into a near-scowl. _“Facts are facts.”_

“Maybe a bigger _shard of glass_ into your brain will jog your poor memory, you mingy muppet.”

_“Ha! Threats of violence already?! You’re losing your touch, rosbif!”_

A throat cleared, silencing them both, and they turn to the desk in front of them.

France settled back in his seat first, with that usual smile that made England roll his eyes. _“I apologize for his rudeness, Docteur Addens, he was never taught better as a child.”_

England puffed in derogatory dismissal.

The Belgian human woman sighed heavily. “Is a Eurovision event _really_ a catalyst for _this?”_

 _“…English it is then…”_ France muttered, sullen, and England couldn't help but feel a tad smug.

“Sir Kirkland doesn’t cooperate in French. It’s about accommodating, remember?”

England knew France like the back of his hand, and as the nation raised that eyebrow, England knew there was a _lot_ more he wanted to say to that…

 _‘If so, I should not cooperate in English then’_ seemed to be on the tip of his tongue. It’s telling, however, when he simply settled with a demure, English– “Sure.”

England tried not to grin so viciously in his triumph.

“Now, my question?”

England eased his expression and crossed his arms. “ _My_ Ms. Ally-May was a _perfectly_ fine contestant. Much better than whatever ragtag group _his_ lot came up with.” He gestured loosely at his neighbour.

“Do _not_ even–” France began with an offended frown.

England steamrolled over his words anyway. “ _I_ don’t even know why he’s deigned to argue with me about it!”

But Dr. Addens only stared with half-lidded eyes. “ _You_ threw the glass, Sir Kirkland…”

England shrugged. “It didn’t even _hurt_ the frog. It’s just glass.”

“You got _wine_ on my hair.”

“Oh, you and your bloody hair… You could do with a haircut!” England mocked.

 _“And you could do with a hairbrush!”_ And he's returned to French again.

Dr. Addens exhaled, a noise of frustration, rubbing her temples, before eyeing them again. “As… psychiatrists for the EU’s 'Healing Relations' program, we’ve made _wonderful_ progress with all nations of the EU, and now everyone’s getting along _much_ better than they did 70 years ago… But… according to all the notes from my predecessors, and now my own experiences, _you two…”_ She hesitated. “have simply _refused.”_ Her pitch went high at the end with a small, tense smile, showing a peak of sheer frustration.

Well… They’ve exhausted another one, and quicker than the others too… The EU was slipping with their picks for these.

“Don’t know how you lot want me to get along with _that.”_ He tilted his head at France.

 _“Mutual feelings here…”_ France just rolled his eyes in return.

Dr. Addens stared again, this time more devoid of confidence. “Maybe I could just talk to Sir Kirkland for a few minutes…? Alone?”

It took France less than a second to brighten right up and stand from his seat. “Of course!” He turned to England. “Try not to hurt yourself, gremlin.”

“Sod off.”

France snickered and walked out of the room.

And England finally relaxed a little more.

“Alright…” Dr. Addens began, rubbing her hands. “Maybe it’s something I missed in all those notes, but… Is there a _reason_ for this? You two haven’t been formal enemies in a long time, and you seem to have even forgiven Mr. Beilschmidt at this point… But…”

England listened to the inquiry quietly, nodding. “Well, for one, Ludwig was a sodding _brat_ , a terribly _delusional_ one at the time, too. But he’s shown he’s changed his tune and works harder than most in Europe, I’ll admit…” He then gestured to the door. “Not _that_ twat, though. He’s _always_ been like this.”

“But _why_ the constant hostility and hatred…? Aren’t you cousins? Or… half-brothers even?”

“Who can say.” England narrowed his eyes. “But I wouldn’t call it ‘hatred’, Dr. Addens…”

It just didn’t feel right to say he _hated_ the frog, although he had no issue admitting he had a strong _distaste_ for everything that defined France’s very core as a nation…

From his personality, to his mannerisms, to his philosophy, everything _annoyed_ England, and it’s _always_ been like this.

The woman frowned. “Please don’t try to tell me that’s a _positive_ interaction between nations, and that humans _‘simply_ _don’t_ _understand’_ …”

England couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “How _could_ you ever understand? We’ve known each other for nearly a thousand years and we've fought for a whole century once. It’s not ‘positive’. It’s just… ‘normal’.”

A permanent fixture to his life, whether he liked it or not.

…If anything, there’s a real level of _intimacy_ that humans truly could _never_ hope to grasp properly…

To have someone so painfully _permanent_ that be it after centuries of wars or revolutionary madness (on France's part, at least), you couldn’t imagine a world without them, and it was a _reasonable_ expectation to have.

That France would always just _be_ there to annoy England for all eternity on this Earth.

But that wasn’t a satisfying answer. It never was for humans. Trying to explain this in a manner they could understand has never been England’s forte…

Maybe France and his overly verbose tick would, although past record shows he’d merely be obtuse about it.

“It’s not ‘normal’ to throw things at people’s heads.” Dr. Addens didn’t seem quite convinced, naturally.

“A glass is nothing comparable to a _knife._ We’re fine, everything considered.”

She grumbled, a hand under her glasses for a second. “Why have other European nations succeeded at this, then? You two seem to be the _only_ ones who’ve stagnated in this.”

“Oh, the _others.”_ England rolled his eyes at the reminder and waved it off. “They’re just being theatrical for you.”

She frowned. “I don’t think so. Things _have_ improved between them, and we see the results, loud and clear.”

England smiled leniently, head tilting. “Yes, being theatrical doesn’t mean they are lying. They can afford self-indulgence in this little play because there’s peace. But when peace is gone, they’ll bring those old animosities and issues back to the forefront. They haven’t _forgotten_ anything, Dr. Addens, they're just pretending. And _I_ happen to not enjoy playing pretend.”

When there’s _stress,_ and interests no longer align, friendships nearly always take a backseat for nations.

And England would say _most_ nations in Europe are a bit like Germany at this point…

Afraid of the war. Afraid of _another_ war… This self-indulgence of ‘healing relations’ and ‘building bonds’ was most likely very _comforting_ for most of them…

But then again, for how long? At what cost? He’s sure everyone is weighting both sides in solitude, pushing reality out of mind and _hoping_ the peace will last…

Dr. Addens blinked, England saw a little shine of understanding in her eyes. “So… You maintain this sort of ‘rivalry’, let’s say, with Mr. Bonnefoy, because you think you’ll be _enemies_ again in the future…?”

“Well.” England raised an eyebrow, feigning puzzlement. “Won’t we? You can’t _possibly_ believe we’ll have peace for the _rest_ of our lives now.”

He could see the tension in her hands, clutching her knuckle and trying to remain passive… “Maybe we could, if you actually tried…”

Ah. There it is.

England exhaled a quiet laugh. Oh, that’s silly… "If _only_ things were that simple, hm?” England shrugged, which certainly must’ve looked… maybe an excuse, or maybe rather _callous._

From this sort of perspective, ‘if only you tried, we could have peace’, it might seem like nations like him don’t care about dealing with wars.

_They wouldn’t die, after all._

It’s not quite like that, of course… But… how do they expect _any_ of them to just forgive and forget, after thousands of years’ worth of _bad_ _blood_ between them…? After _everything_ they did to one another…?

_It’s not like they’ve completely forgiven Germany and Prussia, either… Let alone each other._

But, again, it’s hard to reason with this sort of human, who believes such things…

England never felt the urge to try. It felt like a waste of his time. They come and go, every generation; convincing a few doesn't seem to make much of a difference.

Dr. Addens still held her knuckle, and her fingers twirled tersely for a moment, then she breathed in and nodded slowly. “…I believe this is enough for today, Sir Kirkland…”

It must be incredibly frustrating for humans to deal with nations in this field.

Psychology. _How could they ever understand…? They try so much, and it never seems to work…_

_They always misunderstand each other here and there._

England nodded with a sigh and stood. “Of course…” He offered no further platitude or comforting words, or even friendliness.

He knew she was probably simmering internally, frustrated with him and his words, and not likely to appreciate whatever he had to say to amend it… He wouldn't know, a Belgian he couldn't read, so he'd rather not even risk it…

“Do send Mr. Bonnefoy in on your way. I should have a word with him too.”

“Will do.” He left the room and finally breathed in relief.

France was in this very corridor, leaned on an open window with a phone and a cigarette.

England hesitated for a few seconds before approaching. He settled with standing next to him by the window, as far as he could be, breathing in the fresher air, mildly tainted by nicotine. “This is a silly exercise, no? All of it for a stupid glass… I should be home already…”

_The night sky was so empty these days…_

France hummed without looking. “I can’t blame them for trying.” There was no sympathy in his tone.

“Your turn in there, by the by.”

“I hope you didn’t stress poor _Mademoiselle Addens_ too much.”

“Not any more than _you_ would, since she seems to think we’re the blame for human conflicts…”

“Ah, that sort again? There are better ways of dealing with them. You have no tact as usual…”

“What was I _supposed_ to say?”

“Lie? Pretend? Most already do.”

“You’d gladly let them _think_ things are perfectly okay, hm?” Let things fall apart, silently, no one none the wiser… Ignore the problem as it grows, until it explodes in their faces. How very _typical_ of France… “No wonder you occasionally lose your marbles…”

France sniffed in pompous disdain, and threw the fizzled cigarette out, successfully finding itself neatly into a public rubbish bin far below. “And you’re such a paragon of stability, _oui?”_ He waved the phone near his face.

England leaned away, frowning. “Wot.”

“That’s _you;_ your violent tendencies immortalized.” France smirked, and England ignored the ironic and unaware jab on reflex alone.

It’s a paused video.

**Englishman throws wine glass at Frenchman’s head  
– Eurovision 2014**

“Oh, bollocks…” It was the diner in the hotel with the contestants and everyone else; no one was even paying attention to them.

_It seems that was the wrong assumption to make._

_That said, he was actually drunk, so maybe he just didn't notice…_

The screen retreated and France snickered. “Quite a few people have seen it; nearly a _million_.”

England groaned in annoyance. “Splendid.”

Well, as long as they were simply ‘an Englishman’ and ‘a Frenchman’, things were fine…

It wasn’t as if this was so uncommon these days… Everyone and their bloody phones with cameras now…

“Well, there you go. You can go back to your dreary little island now, _rosbif.”_ He pushed off the windowsill, walking towards the office behind.

“…Better an island than being _your_ continental neighbor. Life would be even _more_ torturous without the channel in-between.”

France spat a laugh– “Of course…” and left it at that, entering the room.

England rolled his eyes and walked away with a weary sigh, rather unsatisfied with not having the last word.

…And they wanted him to be ‘friends’ with that guy… How utterly _silly._

 _Pretending they could safely be this carefree with one another was downright mental…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, assuming that the idea is that 'nations influence their people', I think it'd be reasonable for a supranational union like the EU to try and use psychology to influence said nations and nudge them to get along, one way or another. You know, sort out their disagreements and their long-ass grudges with one another in a healthy environment, and not on the battlefield with guns or swords.
> 
> And naturally, England and France would be the pain-in-the-ass duo that always gets sent to the principal's office because they can't get along like the rest of the class. Honestly, I can't imagine that this would be a pleasant job for the psychiatrists. If they're told they're helping these immortal beings get along for the sake of peace in the continent, I'm sure they'd be pretty excited to help, but hitting the wall of dreariness that is England and France never quitting their animosities would be demoralizing, even more so if one of them says this is not as effective as the humans think it is.
> 
> Still, thanks for reading! Next one with China will be a little longer.


	6. That Blame Game, Because Yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW: Nanking, and implied horrors that happened there...** Nothing too explicit, but still heavy.
> 
> This one is a little longer, and also the last of the prologue POVs. From now on, updates will take a little longer. But it'll be the first arc on this Revelation process.

**…**

_Curses…! He couldn’t escape like this…! This wouldn’t work…!_

_Yao pulled her arm further around his shoulders, struggling to hold her limp body and run across the ruined city._

_He could hear her shallow breathing, but… he just needed a safe place…! A safe place to hide, she needed safety to recover, it was too much…!_

_But it was senseless, he was too slow…! Yao could hear him chasing them…_

_Yao pivoted into an alleyway, hoping to break his pursuer’s line of sight on him, skipping past broken and burned wood from bombed buildings, hoping over corpses with effort._

_This wasn’t his territory, though; it was hers, he didn’t know where he was going and he couldn’t ask her…!_

**_Nanking – 1937_ **

_“Come, sister, you can’t give up…” Yao muttered, frantically looking around for a path– “We haven’t sorted out who’s in the right yet… You still have to listen to me…”_

_He didn’t hate her; he was furious with her, he thought she was wrong, he was willing to fight her to be the one to lead them forward this time around, she was just too stupidly stubborn… But he could convince her, he **could…!** He’d force her if needed…!_

_He just needed more time, and so she couldn’t die…! Not after everything they've been through!_

_His legs were pained, he had bullets in his shoulder and gut; he couldn’t carry her fully and her feet dragged as he ran._

_Everywhere he looked, nothing but destroyed homes and corpses and tall towers of black smoke, the smell of ash and blood was unbearable–_

_He turned down the road, trying to stick to any nook he could squeeze through, to stay out of the open streets where he was so visible… He had to take her to his territory, let her stay on the edge with some of her people, away from this hell draining the life out of her, maybe then–_

_A deafening boom shook his world, everything spun as his ears rung sharply and he found himself hitting the ground, rolling with the impact._

_A bomb…?!_

_He coughed what tasted like blood and clawed at the ground as the sound cleared, trying to push himself on his elbow to gather his bearings, feeling the road’s dirt and dust digging into his nails; his head hurt viciously with searing pain, as did the left side of his body._

_Warm blood ran down his head from that side, and he opened his eyes, seeing it drip heavily on the dirt through his blurry vision; his arm looked a little soaked in red, sipping through his fatigues._

_'Where’s…' He looked around, trying to discern the world around him._

_It adjusted slowly, and he saw the blood smeared on the dirt road he was attempting to cross before–_

_His sister…! He blinked to force his vision to adjust, and he saw her hair on the ground, her uniform soaked in blood; he’d been holding her on his left side– “Oh, no…! C-Chun-Yan!” His eyes widened, and his left leg failed him when he tried to stand, so he pushed on his hands and knees to reach her–_

_Running steps behind–_

_A heavy weight on his neck made him crash back on the dirt; he gasped at the pressure on his windpipe. More feet approached._

_“Keep him down.” Japanese words echoed above, and Yao inhaled sharply, pushing back in an attempt to escape again, except he no longer had the strength, and he was pushed down again by a boot that pressed against his head._

_Yao breathed hard and ragged as desperation began to set in. “Stop…!” He rasped furiously._

_Instead, hands held his arms behind him, and feet pressed on the back of his knee. A gun was jammed against his head. Held by three, mere humans…?!_

_Yao still struggled. “You…! Get away from her!” He roared._

_But the bastard he'd once called his brother and spawn from the devils paid him no heed. He approached her downed body, that wicked, bloodied blade drawn and sizzling against the dirt._

_Yao growled and struggled, but it was no use, in his state, even with just humans holding him… 'Damn him…!'_

_Japan is the name he used, and Yao would curse it forever._

_But his so-called brother didn’t listen, and stopped next to her, before rolling her body on her back with his foot. “Hm… She’s still breathing…” She was limp, and blood was left on his boot._

_And Japan smirked, pointing the blade at her neck._

_Yao gasped sharply. “S-Stop it, Yamato…!” He snapped._

_Japan’s smirk widened, turning more malicious, before he let out a soft laugh. “Now, and only now, you’ve remembered my name, brother. **She** never did either…” The blade pressed against the skin of her neck, a drop of blood dripping from the small wound._

_There was no sign of healing on her skin, her breathing was shallow…_

_Yao’s eyes widened “Stop…! S-She can’t take any more damage, she–!” He choked, trying to breathe past the lump in his throat. “She’s too weak, please…! Just… Leave her be…!”_

_"Resorting to begging… How shameful…"_ _Japan huffed and sheathed his accursed blade, before he kneeled next to her. “Wake up.” Japan hissed._

_Her brows barely moved… She was just too weak, too out of it, with all the bombs, and everything that happened, everything done to her people in that single city, that was almost done to her too… She was too unstable to handle anything else…_

_Yao gritted his teeth, scowling darkly._

_“My dear sister from the mainland… Never thought I’d ever see you in such a state…” Japan sighed, before he stood, grabbing her hair and dragging her closer to Yao. He could hear her sounds of discomfort, and Japan kneeled again, holding her head by the hair, other hand holding her cheeks. “She was great and beautiful back then, wouldn't you agree? Now look at her pathetic state…”_

_At those words, she rasped something barely inaudible, golden eyes cracking open with tears._

_Yao stared, wide-eyed from the ground, his cheek pressed against the dirt._

_Japan leaned closer, eyes wide in a manic expression of pure malice. “It’s just occurred to me now. My men have never touched a woman of our kind before…”_

_Yao gaped in horror; his blood froze completely, hearing the wicked chuckles above him._

_Japan tilted his head, teeth showing. “How about this…? If you let them have their fun, you can leave with her afterward. A small payment for her life, hm?”_

_“H-How dare you, you SCUM…!” Yao screeched back, outraged. “Haven’t you animals done ENOUGH?! KEEP YOUR FILTHY JAPANESE HANDS OFF HER!”_

_The weight on his body grows heavier, more gripping, painful._

_Japan’s eyes squint with mirth, and he let go of her hair, holding her head close to his chest by the forehead instead. He drew his sword with his other hand, coolly maneuvering it and resting it dangerously close to her neck, resting his cheek against her crown._

_“I see…” The blade pressed against her skin, drawing blood. Japan sighed, almost longingly. “…So that’s a ‘no’, then.” The blade pressed further– the vicious smile widened–_

* * *

China gasped softly, staring at the ceiling, blinking the bleariness away.

**2014**

**June**

**Beijing – 7AM**

His heart still beat more frantically than normal… He breathed in deep, hand resting against his eyes; he gulped, waiting for his body to calm down. After a few moments, he inhaled and exhaled, then sat up, dragging his hair off his eyes.

…What has brought this _nightmare_ about, he wondered…

Maybe something he’s read, or saw, or felt, or heard about; or maybe, something in his mind saw fit to _remind_ him of it…

He couldn’t be sure.

And it didn’t matter.

China brushed his now shoulder-length hair back with his fingers, pushing the silk sheets off and rubbing his eyes, and then pushed all irrelevant issues out of his mind, standing swiftly, shivering briefly from the marble floor touching his feet.

He sighed, again reminding himself to put a rug here…

China turned on the lights and commenced his morning routine like any other.

He stretched lightly, then went with a hefty breakfast first, enjoying the plentiful amounts of food he always had available in his fridge these days, before brushing his teeth.

After that, a shower, drying and brushing hair neatly, and then donning another fine suit, adjusting the tie properly in front of the grand mirror in the closet.

Finally done, his last action before leaving his current home: he made some tea and lifted the automatic sill from the windows with the press of a button; they lift smoothly, bathing the whole grand one-bedroom apartment with the faint sunlight, and he opened the glass doors to see the vista from the spacious balcony.

Decorated neatly with spots of grass and some trees, where he liked having tea under the shade on sunny days.

The beautiful sight of his capital down below greeted him, and he leaned on the marble fencing, sipping his tea, squinting at the wind hitting his high-rise apartment and appreciating the sight like he does every few days after sleeping.

He looks around and up, towards the sharp roof where his current flag flew proudly.

…And to think that barely 50 years ago, he was practically crawling in the mud, his people starving…

In moments like these, those hellish centuries felt _almost_ distant…

China breathed in, laying the cup down and stretching his arms.

But honestly, he’s never felt stronger, and he’s certain he would be even _more._

For that, he needed to continue with his duty.

China nodded resolutely to himself, and shuffled back in while sipping the last of his tea, patting his suit as he closed the door as he left the small cup on the desk, then switched himself to his office at work, leaving the apartment to be cleaned by the maid.

China quickly scanned over the files put on his desk, reading the lists of people he had to check for corruption and disloyalty today.

Also, a note from his Intelligence Leader, asking for a quick word… He’d see about that later.

For now, China took his list and left the lavish office.

At eight in the morning, every other week or so, all government officials present would be checked, and those absent would be marked for some _questioning_ later.

He’d be checking both the State Council Hall and the Great Hall of the People this morning.

China walked down the halls and main rooms of each building like a sentry drone, keeping his senses sharp for any ill intent, minor disloyalty, or even doubt.

He didn’t need _any_ of that. He didn’t need useless or rusty or ill-fitted cogs in his machine.

Most of his government didn’t even know who _exactly_ he was, but they didn’t _need_ to know anything about him, even if rumors circled whenever China wandered by and watched them closely for a few seconds before noting something on a clipboard and silently moving on.

Most of them saw him as a direct aid to their leader, and an asset to the Ministry of State Security, just doing his job.

China did appreciate how it made them sweat, of course.

It was blissfully satisfying to see them almost freeze and pretend to keep working while he inspected their very souls. Public officials had to be _kept_ on their toes, constantly, because the noose was indeed that tight…

China would tick one of four options for each:  
 _Safe_ _(_ _安_ _) –_ _Watch_ _(_ _伺_ _)_ _–_ _Question_ _(_ _訊_ _)_ _–_ _Arrest_ _(_ _拘_ _)_

This hypothetical noose was a reminder.

_Corruption and disloyalty would not be tolerated._

That way, his government officials would know not to step out of line, and those who did could be swiftly _dealt_ _with_ before any damage was done.

These days, it was rare for him to tick the Arrest 拘 box. Most cases of the Question 訊 ticks on his clipboard were ameliorated easily and those marked with it were quickly moved back to the Watch 伺 category, where most officials were.

The last, seemingly loyal third that stayed in the Safe 安 category tended to not stay there permanently, it was usually in a constant flux between Safe 安 and Watch 伺…

But that’s just how humans are… They could never be fully trusted…

China has long figured that letting them be with the care and devotion of a nation, relying on their continuous loyalty towards him for his kindness, was nothing but folly; a comfortable but untimely _naïve_ strategy he’d no longer have faith in.

They had to be watched and noted on their loyalty, _constantly,_ especially nowadays, when they had such easy access to foreign ideas and malcontents out to turn his own citizens into puppets for their political goals…

No, he’s been through that before. He learned his lesson.

 _England_ of all nations taught him this by force, so long ago, nailing that point home the day he used his own people as a weapon against him, before stealing his own child from him, just to pour salt on China's humiliating wounds; the English bastard filled his child's little head with _ridiculous,_ unstable notions of ‘freedom’ or whatever pretty euphemism they had for that chaotic, unrestrained and ugly human desire to destroy themselves and take their nations down with them…

The same happened to his eldest daughter, too, the one his _sick_ little brother stole…

China sighed tiredly as he went about his weekly check-up on his officials, as thinking of his dysfunctional family always made him feel so helpless and lonely…

…Why couldn’t the world leave the Chinese nations alone…? He missed being cut off from the whole lot of them and their idiotic and malicious intentions towards him and his family…

Even with hindsight of what was coming, the sea slowly receding and how blind he was to the shadow that wave created… he missed that brief spell of peace, when visitors knelled before Chinese emperors; the calm before the storm was still just that…

_Calm._

_…They’ve turned all of his remaining family into puppets against him with stupid ideas, and he just wanted them to get along again…_

With the whole list checked, most of them present, and a few absent faces to be automatically questioned, he headed to where the Head of Intelligence was stationed with files in hand.

Swiftly flowing from the State Council Hall to the Ministry of State Security Headquarters, he stopped in front of the top office’s door and knocked only out of politeness, before entering without being asked, because he could.

“Good morning, Minister Jin.” China greeted, closing the door behind.

His minister of State Security lowered the laptop’s screen to see him, eyes narrowing, and he promptly stood and bowed. “Elder Wang, on a timely schedule as always, thank you.” He sat down once again and turned back to his work for a moment. “Excuse me for a moment.”

“Of course.” China approached and desk, and couldn’t help but give the man a cursory check like he does to everyone else, before nodding in satisfaction. “Here are the Security checks for this week. I suggest you start on these soon.” He left the clipboard heavy with papers on the desk.

"Of course, Elder Wang. It'll be done."

China nodded and walked to stand somewhat patiently by the window with his hands crossed behind his back.

This building wasn’t too tall, and most of what he could see as he peered behind the curtains was the parking lot and the city beyond it.

“Apologies, Elder Wang, I rue to keep you for longer than necessary.” The minister finally ceased his current task, picking up the clipboard and shuffling through some of the papers as well.

China nodded once again and turned back to him with an eased smile. “I’ve heard some ruckus involving Jones again… Care to fill me in on that first? I’m curious, what has the brat been up to this time…”

“Of course.” Minister Jin glanced at his laptop. “It’s nothing major at the moment. A few days ago, Alfred Jones had personally invaded Iraqi territory. It seems it was about a number of American contractors stranded in Iraq after the local terrorist group began its offensive against the Iraqi government. He was most likely there to extract them and the situation appears to have resolved itself by now… Our intel says he was successful.”

“Aah… So that’s what the problem was…” China sighed tiredly. “I’ll try to see if there’s lasting offense over this at the next meeting, then… For now, just keep watching the situation.”

_The brat was really stretching the limits of his authority, huh…? Just walking in another nation’s territory without warning…?_

_It’s both bold and rude to be that abrasive…_

_But then again, China already knew the brat was just that arrogant._

“It’ll be done, Elder Wang.”

“Right… Now, what did you want to chat about?”

Minister Jin placed the papers back on the desk. “That’s another matter entirely… I just wanted to make you aware of the chatter that’s been circling online, about you and your regal kind…”

China hissed, rolling his eyes. “Not _all_ of us are so regal…” He mumbled.

“Indeed so.” The minister agreed due to duty, but he couldn’t truly know. “However, it’s been substantial, not just in the homeland. Most of it has been spreading in the West.”

_Of course… It’s always out west…_

“We’ve been adding moderators and automatic actions to stifle this sort of talk, things are under control at the moment, but I imagined you’d want to be aware of it. I’ve been told to ask you to, _if_ possible, moderate yourself in public as well…”

It seems his leader heard about this before China himself… _Again, of course…_

China hummed and sat on the desk coolly, thinking. “Now that’s something I find _particularly_ interesting, Minister…” He smiled coyly. “Wouldn’t it be _fun_ to see how… let’s say, the _Japanese_ would react if they knew just what kind of character their nations have…?”

Because _Japan_ could hide the ugliness in him from the world, he could hide his past behind a cute cultural veneer of colorful lights and rounded corners; he could make everyone _forget_ what he did.

But he would never deceive China.

_China would always remember what he was **truly** like. _

_Japan was a cold-blooded monster to the core; just looking at his face made China want to stab him, every single time…_

_And nothing he did would ever change that for China._

“What are you saying…?” Minister Jin uttered cautiously.

“I’m just saying that it’d be _fun_ to see it.” China shrugged with a grin and crossed his legs. “Maybe we shouldn’t do anything to stifle it.”

“Just leave it be? Or let the people know?”

“Just leave it be. Maybe it’s inevitable if it’s spreading out of control out there… Besides…” China glanced back at him. “Aren’t the Western peoples growing increasingly _sensitive_ to the moral failings of their past…?” His smirk turned vicious. “It’ll just escalate, and _then,_ what do you think they’ll want to do with their own nations, if they knew what they’ve _personally_ done?”

Minister Jin’s lips parted as he considered it, then– “It… would add another layer of instability to Western countries… If we get a head-start…”

China nodded eagerly.

“But…” The minister narrowed his eyes, turning to him with a challenging frown. “What’s stopping them from turning that on you, Elder Wang…?” 

“Oh!” China barked a laugh and stood, theatrically spinning on his feet, an arm outstretched, other hand over his chest. “But I am a _victim!”_ He proclaimed with a dramatic flair. “ _One_ _hundred years_ of suffering and humiliation at the hands of these nations! How could I _ever_ come out of that unscathed?! Then, the sheer _trauma_ of losing my poor sister! Killed by a Japanese _murderer!_ All because of a war started by _Europeans!_ If anything, it’s _their_ fault! And when I _finally_ manage to crawl my way out of the ashes and rise like a phoenix, they wish to _burn_ me to the ground again? Because of what? Some _dirt_ in nature?! No, no, why aren't _we_ , the Chinese, allowed to stand on their level? How _dare_ they try to push us down with such excuses, the conniving dogs!” China snickered in mirth at the mere thought. “And, as shown by past evidence, they’d _kill_ me if they could, like their wars did to my late siblings! I am merely attempting to _survive_ here, the last of the ancient Chinese nations! Minister, I have the right to _live_ as well, don’t I? My people have the right to eat their fill and be happy like them, don’t they?!”

_Oh, the tragedy~! A true underdog!_

Minister Jin cupped his mouth in thought, nodding. “An intriguing narrative.”

China eased his dramatic portrayal and sat on the desk again. “Indeed, I like it too…” He muttered with a self-satisfied smile.

Minister Jin nodded again, more firmly. “We’ll schedule a meeting to sort out the details today.”

China stood. “For now, ease the moderators’ orders, just to keep it out of television. Let it roam only online for a while. We’ll sort out where it should go from there.”

“It’ll be done, you have my word.” Minister Jin stood to bow in respect.

“That you do, Minister. Do this right, and your whole family may get a _raise_ out of this.”

“You’re too kind, Elder Wang. Thank you.”

China smiled and disappeared from his office before he even looked up from his bow, resettling himself back in his apartment, immediately shuffling out of his suit’s jacket and flopping on his now-made bed.

The apartment was empty and clean by now. It’s always good to have servants…

“Aah,” China sighed loudly, almost unable to contain his glee. “the next few years will be fun.”

Not only could he see his Western competitors dance around and excuse their ‘moral wrongs’ of the past, but China could _also_ enjoy the show of seeing both England and Japan being properly _judged_ for what they did, by their own people and the rest of the Western peoples no less…!

England, for the painful humiliation that began China’s downward spiral with his cruel opium trap, and also for the theft of his _child._

And Japan, for the evil cruelty he imposed on China and his family and for the murder of his sister.

Those two wronged him the most recently, and China would _savor_ the delicious taste of their comeuppance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, China... A complicated case to look at as a _character._ I admit, I have some bias against its government, but nothing against the people. They got some _wild_ history. 
> 
> Btw, China has shorter hair here, I like to think he cut it during the Cultural Revolution, and then let it grow a little more in recent days. ;)
> 
> One thing that always bothered me was whenever this character of 'China' was being depicted as the _only_ China. It's my headcanon that China, in all its iterations, always had multiple nations, who often fought and broke their union multiple times over the centuries, with more and more of them being born or axed off as Chinese empires rose and fell, each with a different sibling in charge for this one, and that it was a constant cycle of them uniting and conquering and breaking things up and fighting to be the one in charge. 'Wang Yao' wasn't always the one in charge, but he certainly survived for a looong-ass time. Honestly, I'd have to study Chinese history in much more depth to actually trace back which 'tribe' Yao was originally born to, but I guess it doesn't matter here. He was with the Communists during WWII, and his sister (essentially Nyo!China, honestly) was with the nationalists. There were others too, but they... well, they died not long after WWII. That's a story for another time.
> 
> So, let's say that for most of Chinese history, they were basically Numbah #1, except that made them weak and careless, and then the rest of the world surpassed them and basically wrecked them for a while, it's what's known as the 'Century of Humiliation', as China got whacked around by multiple empires like they were in a line to do so. Most famous case being the Opium Wars, where England basically wiped the floor with China just to keep selling opium because they wanted cheap tea. And also when the Japanese attacked, not only were the casualties astonishingly high due to new technologies, they were also, unfortunately, especially cruel... That's a tragedy I don't want to get too in-depth right off the bat, but I'll probably go back to that, because it's at the core of China's disdain for Japan in this story.
> 
> So I figured that with this being most likely the most humiliating and terrible time in this character's life, he'd still be having nightmares occasionally, and he'd be especially spiteful of England and Japan in particular.
> 
> Sorry if Japan seemed too cruel here, but I have reasons why I did this. Headcanons, about how certain ideologies taking over a country can influence the nation to act in _certain ways..._ I'll get to _that_ eventually.
> 
> I also, don't often see this sequence of events in this sort of story. That's usually lapped on a leak from America, which I think is a little predictable and repetitive by now. So I wanted to try something new here and there. :)


	7. Everyone Hates Each Other on Bad Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally three-quarters of this chapter is a social media entry. :) Sorry if you don't like that as much as actual narrative, but once I started writing this thing, it just kept going and going for nearly 6K words. :D I couldn't stop!
> 
> I saw someone attempting this idea once, but updates stopped and I never got any conclusion on that. Not to mention, it wasn't written in a way I found very pleasant or realistic, so…
> 
> Edit: Also don't mind the small edits I do every now and then. Sometimes I let inconsistencies slide by accident, and I tend to fix them post-upload. :x Aaand I also add a few lines here and there. Nothing big.
> 
> CW: Maybe a few sensitive topics here. Don't @ me over it without reading the notes.

**2015**

**January**

**New York City – UN HQ – 7PM**

**Diplomatic Assembly of the United Nations (DAUN)**

The year started off badly…

Every year, America always watches the clock tick away, and then, on whatever roof, on whatever great city he decides to perch himself on that year, he enjoys the fireworks like it’s a new experience, basking in that… brief, but pleasant lull of _hopes_ and _dreams_ and _optimism_ and _ideas_ and _yes-I-can-yes-I-will_ bout of determination that _flourish_ in that fleeting moment when a new year comes.

He assumed that every nation felt that during New Year’s celebrations, when a bigger chunk of their citizens tell themselves that _yes, they will get that promotion; they will get that job; get married; study hard; and yes, they WILL go to the gym this year._

 _Maybe do some yoga, learn a new language, take up a hobby, write that novel, write that script, get along with people, smile more_ and yadda, yadda, yadda…

America usually lets himself fall into it and feel some _hope_ that maybe _this_ year will be just a little better.

Eh.

When it starts out badly, it’s safer to assume that it’d simply be a shit-year and brace for it.

America leaned on the furthest edge of the table, gloved hands gripping the edge, but he watched Saudi and Qatar very closely instead, receiving glares in return.

 _Of course_ they knew he suspected _them._ At least, they were smart enough to show up early, if only to challenge him, to say they were confident in their innocence on this. _Or at least confident there were no holes in their covers…_

 _Pakistan_ didn’t even have the decency to uphold some sense of legitimate innocence and was just plain late or absent. Who the fuck knows at this point? That bastard never seems to give a damn these days.

_America regrets getting himself tangled up with that guy and his bullshit list of troubles… Maybe America should just have left him to Russia._

…But since it was still so early, most nations were still in their hotels or in the lounges of the UN HQ. Most of them weren't on the center-stage of the world's geopolitical theater, and so, 90% of the world's nations could afford that.

But most of G-7 Europeans, specifically, France and Germany, tended to arrive early and together as well. So today was an oddity. 

Because lo and behold: France and Germany were absent.

France? Totally understandable, with what just happened and how his people were mourning for the victims of a terror attack…

But no word on why _Germany_ wasn't present at this hour. He's _literally_ always present before most, always the first of the EU to arrive.

Some of the present EU nations shuffled and wandered around the dais at the center of the room, waiting anxiously, occasionally exchanging some concerns about France… _It's always weirdly funny to see Europeans giving a damn about each other's emotional wellbeing…_

Austria watched his phone, foot tapping continuously. Poland sat on the G-7 table with no regard for his stature within the EU, tapping the marble. Hungary paced like a shark, glaring at the floor. Spain remained in his seat at the very front, arms crossed and somewhat lost in his own head. While Italy stood with his arms crossed, facing away from almost everyone, checking his phone every minute or so.

Some others like Greece, Romania, Bulgaria sat in the Western seats close to Greece, watching them all. Although Greece just made himself comfortable with his feet on the table…

The rest of the G-7 wasn’t present yet. America just arrived this early to _watch._

_Because it's his damn job to arrive early and keep the order._

When France actually arrived, doors swinging open and closing harshly behind him, he strode towards them with long steps and a scowl. The few early-bird nations who sat around their allies to chat, stopped to follow him with their eyes.

America saw Saudi's eyes narrow at the French nation for a few seconds, but nothing beyond that. Qatar himself didn't look particularly interested, and was instead tapping his phone distractedly.

France reached them and Hungary quite immediately hounded him with a sneer. “I _told_ you, I _said_ this was going to happen–!” She snapped at him, approaching further.

France snarled and lifted his hands, shooing her erratically. _“Don’t start– don’t start this now! Do not!”_ He hissed in French, and he circled around her as if dodging something nasty to reach the table.

America only listened and kept watching _those_ two, still a few seats away from each other, just keeping diplomatic appearances…

But they didn’t break the stare-down.

“–I _said_ it, this is just what happens…!” Hungary continued more quietly.

Most of the present EU nations were awkwardly exchanging glances, not wanting to interfere without first understanding which teams were at play in this verbal conflict.

France sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Where’s Ludwig?” He asked under his breath in English, tone authoritative. “We need to talk.”

He didn’t sound happy, and America could sympathize. Getting attacked by terrorists sucks ass… _It really makes a nation want to murder._

Austria was the one closest, still holding a phone. “Gilbert said his brother got tied up with something, although he was annoyingly _vague_ about it…” He ended it with a scoff.

Hungary paced behind them with her hands on her hips, shaking her head, glaring at France.

France groaned in annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose. _“Oh, sacrebleu…”_

“Well. Let's talk by ourselves then.” Poland suddenly said, leg crossing over his knee. “What did you _expect_ from this whole… immigration business, hmm?”

France turned to him with a hiss under his breath, glaring impatiently. “I said: Don’t you START–”

Poland ignored him, smirking in derision. “You expected them to _identify_ with a godless degenerate like _you?”_ Poland mocked, enunciating the words. “Of _course_ this would happen, now you lost some of your citizens for no reason, _idiot.”_

_Oh, boy…_

France pointed at him, approaching. “Now listen here, you _worshipping_ _imbécile–”_

Poland stood to face him despite their height difference, lips curling into a sneer. 

“Heeey.” America turned away from the two Arab nations to glance at the two, with a sharp tone as he lifted his voice, making them stop and growl at him instead.

Hungary then approached, hands clasped together. “You understand, right, _Amerika?_ You understand what we mean…!"

America sighed, suppressing the uncomfortable feeling of being reminded of that day _again,_ waving her off stiffly. “Don’t pull me into this.” He knows _terrorists._ But he’s not sure _that’s_ what she’s talking about…

Hungary huffed primly and turned away to glare at everyone else.

He focused on those two _weasels_ again, letting the rest of the Europeans sort their own shit out. He'd just have to stay here as a mediator, he supposed, but at this point of the conversation, he really wanted to leave and have a fucking drink.

Poland sat again and let his head lull away, rolling his eyes hard. “So, are we all just _crazy_ now? Are we just _ignoring everything_ that happened? Isn’t this a ‘red flag’ as you call it?”

England glanced at him with a small sardonic smile. “You know no one's asking you to _keep_ these people, correct? They still belong to another nation, and they'll go home eventually."

Hungary whirled to glare at him. “ _I_ was under Ruhtürk’s and the Ottomans’ rule…! I know these sorts better than _any_ of you in the west _or_ the north– you don’t know what they're like–”

England looked away tiredly, and Hungary responded with an angry hiss. It's been a while since America's seen her this upset…

Poland growled under his breath, crossing his arms. "You're all being _stupidly_ careless about this, I hope you realize that. You will _not_ drag me into it, I'm warning you now."

Around them, Italy began to pace, arms crossed, seemingly deep in thought, but not interfering. While Austria wandered closer to the G-7 table, leaned back on it next to Poland, _maybe a small show of support by proximity,_ arms also crossed, eyes darting between the floor and Hungary.

Some of the seated nations who remained quiet so far, specifically Romania and Bulgaria, exchanged glances, before exchanging another with Greece, who rolled his eyes before covering them with his arm.

Then Romania lifted his hand cautiously. “Uhm, I _kinda_ agree…?”

France turned to glare, making him twitch.

“Quit it, you!” Hungary snapped at Romania instead.

He sputtered in disbelief. “I’m on YOUR SIDE, woman!”

“Not with that limp-wristed tone you’re not! Agree with some conviction or shut it!”

"Huh?!"

While the two argued, France wandered off to pace past America, muttering a heated storm, almost to himself as he chopped the air in front of him. _“This is why you hate religion; this is why it’s such an annoyance; this is why–”_

America glanced sideways. It was easy to see the divide, of the nations who were hesitant or vehemently against this whole business… A terror attack of this nature was simply a spark to them.

For some nations, it was hard to disconnect humans from their previous nations and affiliations.

America was a bit of a professional at ignoring a human’s previous ties, and usually, he could smugly brag about it too.

But at this point, after dealing with nations for this long through the DAUN, he now knew this attitude wasn’t quite common… Sometimes, even secondary affiliation by association with a _specific religion_ could be a problem for many nations.

European nations may have worked hard to ameliorate their relationships with one another all these years, especially in the EU, but…

The Mediterranean and Balkan nations were a whole different story.

Their relationships with those previously associated with _caliphs_ were still… a little rocky…

A quick look at Spain proves that. Dispassionate as he was with his current unemployment rate, he still had the energy to simmer over some memory from a distant past…

America looks further around, and he doesn’t see Turkey yet…

Well, _good._

That guy would just fan the flames with his presence alone at this point, considering how many of these Europeans that guy wronged over the centuries…

Every nation here who's been wronged by nations like Turkey to such an extent tended to have a strong bias against everything associated with them. That included their religion…

Hell… America _could_ sympathize, he's been wronged too… but, he liked to think he was capable of seeing beyond that… Even if it took him a while… And so, he really preferred to maintain neutrality on _that_ issue.

_Even if sometimes, it was just painfully difficult to do so…_

Then France interrupted his thoughts, stopping in front of him, palms pressed together. “This is _your_ fault, by the way.”

America scowled on reflex, standing straight, unamused. “How is it _my_ fault that _neither_ of those two _morons_ in Syria and Iraq can keep their shit together long enough to deal with a few armed _thugs?_ Not to mention, that Iraqi's men leaving the weapons _I_ gave him to be snatched by said thugs?”

France huffed and stepped back. “This wouldn’t be happening if _your_ government hadn’t made a mess of everything down there…!”

_How is it his fault when humans just up and abandon their nations in a time of crisis? The answer is pretty simple: it’s not, and America refused to even consider that was all his damn fault._

America narrowed his eyes. “ _Riiight,_ I forgot the Middle East has always been such a _paradise_ of peace and love…? I’m sure _everything_ would be just _dandy_ if I hadn’t stepped foot in there.” Then, America smirked at a sudden thought, and jabbed a finger at France. “In fact, _you’re_ one to talk, aren’t you? How are your _African friends_ doing right now?”

France rolled his eyes in defensive condescension, walking away. _He knew America was right._

_And speaking of **that:** Nigeria so far has had no problem hunting down HIS stupid armed thugs, after a bunch of them kidnapped some school girls. Even Cameroon was pitching in to help. It's not that hard to assassinate some people and have the whole group scrambling and scattering like bugs._

_Why couldn't Syria and Iraq just cooperate and do that?_

“…I need to go home. I just… needed to talk to Ludwig…" France finally relented, rubbing his forehead as if relieving a headache. "That’s _all_ I came here for.”

 _“Really?”_ A frigid, feminine tone interrupted them in smooth French. America had seen her coming down the steps, and France spun on his feet to see Belgium, glaring at him. _“Is that really everything you came to do? Nothing else to… report?”_ Her eyes narrowed.

The remaining Europeans quieted down. France remained in place, hands on his hips as he glanced sheepishly at the ground, as if he knew what she meant.

Belgium’s eyes narrowed further. _“Not the fact that you put on a hood and hunted down the perpetrators like a BLOODHOUND?!”_ She shouted the last words at his face, making France lean away. _“Roleplaying as The Terror now? Nation Justice without trial?! In PUBLIC?!”_ She banged her foot on the ground in frustration.

America narrowed his eyes as well, glancing at France. That attracted more attention, and everyone stared.

France tapped his foot without looking up, attempting to form words a few times before sighing. _“I… I-I may have lost my mind… for a moment…”_

Belgium huffed in disbelief. _“There’s no Revolutionary Madness to excuse your actions this time, François. That is just BEYOND unacceptable…!”_ She jabbed a finger on his chest several times.

France rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. _“You don’t understand, I–”_

 _“No, what I 'understand' is that you acted completely inhumane, in public!”_ She banged her foot again, this time more softly. _“Dammit, François, you know nowadays we can’t afford to be doing this sort of thing?! Even Ludwig’s in trouble and I–”_

Everyone who could follow French easily enough snapped to look at her.

Italy had been pacing near her; he froze and blinked. _“Excuse me?”_ He finally spoke in a soft tone.

England frowned and stood. Everyone else looked at Belgium.

Her shoulders hitched and she waved them off, shielding her eyes from their stares. _“Ah, no, this has nothing to do with this; I meant that he’s in trouble exactly BECAUSE of how things are nowadays, but this is not about–!”_

 _“Understood,"_ Poland interrupted impatiently with a terse tone. "now EXPLAIN what happened to him already.” 

Belgium’s lips pressed thin, glaring at him for a moment, before breathing in and out. “Well… That's a little complicated, but… You see…”

* * *

**Berlin**

**12 hours earlier**

“What…?” Germany stared at the woman on the other side of the desk, just attempting to process.

The front-desk secretary of this police precinct stared back uncomfortably, then adjusted her glasses. “You’ve been summoned to answer a court case against your person, Herr Beilschmidt.” She shuffled some papers. “The accuser claims that… you and your brother have committed _heinous_ hate-crimes against his family… for their Jewish ancestry…”

Wait… His eyes widened. “Y-You mean… I’m being _sued?!”_

“Yes, you and your brother, that’s, uh… that seems to be the case here, sir.”

Germany still stared, mouth ajar in disbelief. He stared glassily past her. "What…?"

* * *

  
**21 st Century ‘New Illuminati’ Stream**

by **EastRoyal**

12,338 Views

Published on Jan 2, 2015

_Streamed 4 days ago._

Show More

**HD**

* * *

**ROYAL** : Alright, are we live…? Sorry chat, give us a minute… There’s a delay, right?

 **SHORTY** : Yeah… That’s a good stream title, though.

 **ROYAL** : Well. That's what's happening, no?

[laughs]

 **ROYAL** : Alright, we're definitely live now. So. We’re going to talk about: the Gaia Theory! [laughs]

 **ROYAL** : So, I’m joined by Des here–

 **SHORTY** : Hello!

 **ROYAL** : For those who don’t know him, we RP D&D on Ochie’s channel.

 **SHORTY** : Go check it out! [laughs]

 **ROYAL** : Oh, yeah, totally. [laughs] Now, enough shilling our D&D, we’ll look into this thing here…

 **SHORTY** : Alright, this should be fun…

 **ROYAL** : As far as I’m aware, it seems this thing has been gaining credibility online, and according to the people I’ve talked to, they said there’s a ‘preponderance of evidence’… What do you think, Des?

 **SHORTY** : Actually, to be quite honest with you, Roy… I didn’t expect anything beyond the aliens or reptilian theories with a new packaging? But, uh, after a while, I kinda began to question whether it was _all_ bullshit or not, because the ‘evidence’ looks pretty… ‘convincing’.

 **ROYAL** : Hmm…

 **SHORTY** : Yeah, I know [chuckles]. It's uh… like, there’s too much effort in it? Maybe there’s a grain of truth somewhere in there. I couldn’t _really_ spot any obvious photoshop, and there’s just so much stuff in there, I barely managed to scratch the surface of it before I kinda wanted to make a video about it, because uh, exploring this whole subreddit seems like a wild ride.

 **ROYAL** : I guess we’ll talk about it, then.

 **SHORTY** : It’s all a little absurd, right? But who’s to say there _aren’t_ people who actually just live a lot longer than us, for one reason or another? We don’t actually know everything about reality… _Could_ be aliens for all we know…

 **ROYAL** : Well, yeah, but… I guess we’ll see. So. This is the ‘evidence list’. It’s actually fairly organized, by country. Huh.

 **SHORTY** : From what I read so far, there were only three instances of more than one ‘suspicious person’ in each country they got here, which aren’t all countries, and those with more being Italy and Germany, with two each, and t–

 **ROYAL** : Two people they think are not… human… in Italy and Germany?

 **SHORTY** : So far, two for each, they say. And three in the UK, too.

 **ROYAL** : Three here? I wonder why?

 **SHORTY** : The UK is a bit different, but– we’ll see when we get there… There’s only one here in Canada too, although I’ve read of a little confusion about him at first, because– [laughs] it seems he looks a lot like the one in the US? So for a while, some people were saying they were the same person, or that Canada didn’t have one; now they’re saying they might just be twins, which is funny to me…

 **ROYAL** : The irony. [laughs]

 **SHORTY** : The one with the _most_ evidence are all in either Western Europe or North America, and their evidence _outside_ those places is a little sparse, from what I saw.

 **SHORTY** : The interesting thing about this, from what I’ve read – so far – is that this is not actually a new thing? It seems they’ve been gathering up evidence since way back online, but then someone, apparently one responsible for the, uh, ‘old community’, let’s say, decided to move everything and set up shop on Reddit back in 2006. They got… a lot of stuff, like, not just pictures, but they keep finding things they claim as evidence, like things in books, letters, paintings, myths, urban legends…

 **ROYAL** : Hmm… Now that’s a little more elaborate than your typical Illuminati theories or Flat Earth forums…

 **SHORTY** : Indeed! They actually claim that a lot of our modern urban legends are actually these people? Like, uh, ‘The Patriot Boy’ in the US, which as we know, went on to inspire the creator of Captain America’s design back in the day. And also ‘The Terror’, the legend of some lunatic murdering anti-revolutionaries at night during the French Revolution, who they say is the one who caught the royal family when they attempted to escape France…? Crazy stuff…

 **ROYAL** : Ehm, it’s easy to pin anything to an ‘immortal entity’.

 **SHORTY** : Heh, I guess it is. It’s still interesting.

 **ROYAL** : “Follow the rules, for your own safety” Hm, okay… Let’s read this first: “While we encourage the proactive gathering of evidence by the users here, we still don’t know whether or not direct contact is safe. We strongly urge you all to keep your distance and try to remain anonymous. Don’t let them see you filming or taking pictures, and don’t let them see your face. However, it’s been noted that they can and have acted as police officers, or at least, as people of equal or more authority, so we caution against wearing masks to conceal your face, especially in countries where that's frowned upon. That’ll just make you look _more_ suspicious. As we confirmed recently, they (or at least the American Gaian) are perfectly capable of noticing when they’re being followed. We’re unsure of how long it takes before they notice you, or even if there’s a safe distance.” So, these people here are encouraging their users to follow and stalk strangers to take pictures or film them. [chuckles]

 **SHORTY** : ‘Suspicious strangers’, yeah, but they have some specific characteristics to look for.

 **ROYAL** : So they’re profiling now? Hmmm. 

**SHORTY** : [laughs] It seems so.

 **ROYAL** : Ah, let me see _what_ are the characteristics. Here… “The best giveaway are the eyes. They’re much brighter and clearer than human eyes, and if not that, then it’s an unnatural color. _Purple_ has been seen a few times in Europe.” Wot…? “Gold has been seen in Asia. Red is most often seen in Africa. Silver in the Middle East. The most common one seems to be green, spotted in Africa, Europe, and the Americas, most predominantly in the north of Africa and Central/South America, with a few ones in Europe and the Middle East.” Hmm, let me see some pictures, this sounds too exaggerated.

 **SHORTY** : I’m looking at them too. They really _are_ bright colors… Who are these people…?

 **ROYAL** : Yeah… Huh… Don't know, but… then again, could just be photoshop…

 **SHORTY** : I feel like it’s not really something someone would focus on when photoshopping people in so many pictures, they all look the same. A-And it’s not that I _want_ to believe this, but damn… There’s just a lot, y’know? So many pages, a lot of new and old pictures, even pictures of paintings…

 **ROYAL** : Yeah… “The second tell is the hair. It looks much thinner, although not sparse, and seems to reflect more light than normal human hair. It’s usually very easy to spot under the sun.” Hmm, yeah… That's weird.

 **SHORTY** : You know what it reminds me of…?

 **ROYAL** : What?

 **SHORTY** : Those women’s shampoo commercials?

[laughs]

 **ROYAL** : I was just thinking that…!

 **SHORTY** : Where the hair looks impossibly silky and soft, all photoshopped?

 **ROYAL** : Exactly.

 **SHORTY** : Boy, even in the old pictures, too.

 **ROYAL** : I’m not that far yet. “The cutoff age seems to be around 25-years old. We’ve yet to find a plausible candidate who looks older than their early mid-20’s.” Well, they all _do_ look very young…

 **SHORTY** : Right? Isn’t it weird? That they’re all young and literally _none_ of them are ugly? Or even overweight?

 **ROYAL** : I did notice that.

 **SHORTY** : Like, there’s no skin problem, no wrinkles, no… no condition or apparent flaw in their appearance. And even when you follow the timeline of evidence, that never really changes in the pictures? Very few of them even seem to be aging. It’s so… weird… Like… How many pictures of different decades showing the… or who seems to be the _same_ person…?

 **ROYAL** : How many of them are really just people who look alike, you mean?

 **SHORTY** : Yeah! I just don’t really know what to make of it.

 **ROYAL** : I’m going down the timeline for the US guy. Look at their oldest evidence and the newest. They don’t look the same age.

 **SHORTY** : Right, in one, it’s a 16-year old kid. That looks, what, 1800’s? The other is a guy in his early 20’s. But they look alike too much… Not so much for the ones in Europe. You go back to the same timeframe and those guys already look in their 20’s. They were younger in paintings, at most, but those are honestly debatable, since paintings aren’t that accurate.

 **ROYAL** : If they even are the same people…

 **SHORTY** : Well, yeah.

 **ROYAL** : …But okay, let’s say they _are._ What to make of it? We're here to _speculate,_ after all.

 **SHORTY** : Well… That would just mean they aren’t _Homo Sapiens,_ no…? Human beings don’t live that long, so… they wouldn’t _be_ human beings…

 **ROYAL** : What are they even _doing_ , though? If… that’s the case…?

 **SHORTY** : There’s a lot of questions asked here on that topic. I’ve been reading, and people here just seem to generally assume they do _something_ in our governments. At the very least, they’re with the army when we’re at war. You find a lot of specific stuff in the World War section here.

 **ROYAL** : I’m… looking into the UK stuff… Oh. Look at _this!_

 **SHORTY** : Wow. Dude’s with the Queen?

 **ROYAL** : Right? This picture is from the 80’s! Or so they say…

 **SHORTY** : God save the queen… He’s kind of a manlet, no…?

[laughs]

 **ROYAL** : It seems so… So this guy was most often spotted with the royal family, and in other times, near Westminster…! What is going on with this guy…

 **SHORTY** : You know what I’m wondering?

 **ROYAL** : What…?

 **SHORTY** : I was looking for the pictures of all the European ones, and I noticed, the overwhelming majority of them are blond.

 **ROYAL** : Really? Let me see…

 **SHORTY** : Right, so, assuming this is real… Wouldn’t it make sense they might be the source of the ‘Blond Aryan’ mysticism of the Nazis?

 **ROYAL** : Wouldn’t surprise me, if it were actually– I mean, even if they aren’t all the same people, they’d still have been humans in their own time anyway? The pictures are still there.

 **SHORTY** : Yeah, I know, that’s what I’m saying, because they do look odd anyway.

 **ROYAL** : The one from Russia has _actual_ purple eyes. Good God, this guy is tall…

 **SHORTY** : So do the ones from Canada and France, although a little more bluish… And some others in Eastern Europe also have purple ones. Is that a… Slavic thing?

 **ROYAL** : They could be a lineage of people. Or multiple lineages… Some kind of elite or something special that keeps going throughout the generations.

 **SHORTY** : If so, they don’t seem to be like any ruling class, if they’ll take up arms and go with the army in a conflict.

 **ROYAL** : True…

 **SHORTY** : But what do we say if it is a real thing, and they’re actually, maybe not ‘immortal’–

 **ROYAL** : Nothing’s immortal.

 **SHORTY** : Right, not immortal, but maybe just people with _really_ long lifespans, maybe not quite Homo Sapiens, but something maybe a little close?

 **ROYAL** : Well, the reason I don’t much believe in the theories here is because nothing ever _stops_ aging. These guys seem to reach their mid-20’s and just stop, if we take this for what it seems to be. How’s that even possible?

 **SHORTY** : Why do _we_ age? It’s the genes, right?

 **ROYAL** : I think so. I’m not a biologist, though. Is that what they study…?

 **SHORTY** : From what I know– and I’m no scientist either, but from what I know, our genetic information replicates itself, with the blueprints of how things should function, and we grow to our prime like that. But then, the genes start wearing down and breaking away, duplicating this worn version and getting worse over time. That’s why once we hit our prime, we just start to decay, right? Then at some point, our genetic code is too fucked up to pass a functioning blueprint and things start to break down at a core-level, then your organs start to fail because the blueprints don’t work right anymore, and you die of old age because you no longer have a working genetic code, which is also why old people can’t have kids, or they have ‘worse’ kids. Less healthy. Right…? I might be wrong…

 **ROYAL** : That would mean _their_ genetic information is not wearing down once they hit their prime, right…?

 **SHORTY** : It’d _have_ to be something like that. That’s the ideal human, if our genes didn’t wear down. We wouldn’t age past our prime either if we could replicate them perfectly every time.

 **ROYAL** : That’s a lofty thing to think… That their genes are just duplicating perfectly 100% of the time. Otherwise, there _would_ be decay over time, inevitably.

 **SHORTY** : Exactly. I see people here have already reached this conclusion, too. Although there are a few theories as to how. One says that they’re getting their genetic information from an outside source that isn’t their own genes duplicating, which leads to ideas of bioengineering, and that they’re actually not from before the 20th century, but are actually lab created as some sort of super-soldiers. That doesn’t explain many of the pictures and written things from before science advanced enough to even be capable of this.

 **ROYAL** : When do they bring aliens into the theory? [chuckles]

 **SHORTY** : Oh, just about now! Since humanity didn’t have the tech for this that long ago, then…

 **ROYAL** : Aliens. _Naturally…_

 **SHORTY** : Yeah, [laughs] and then the other theory is that they’re not completely biological and material, and that there’s some kind of _supernatural_ element at play. People think the Romans had some too, and that they were actually the gods of their culture back then. Eeh, I don’t know what to say about _that…_

 **ROYAL** : Hmm… Me neither. I mean, what would that even entail?

 **SHORTY** : Actual Gaia stuff?

 **ROYAL** : What’s the story again?

 **SHORTY** : Ah, the story is a bit like a… a personified spirit of the planet itself, Gaia, using Earth, herself, to give birth to children. They’re ‘Children of Gaia’. Something like that… I’d have to recheck.

 **ROYAL** : It’s not so weird for old myths to have _some_ basis in reality… But…

 **SHORTY** : That’d be saying that these people were literally born from the earth of the planet. Like, sprouting out like plants. [laughs]

 **ROYAL** : Maybe not quite… But maybe somewhere underground?

 **SHORTY** : Eeeh… They don’t look like mole-people.

 **ROYAL** : …Right. They look more like what Renascence painters would paint as angels of sorts… Youngish, no rugged beard or bulging muscles, although who knows what’s beneath their clothes [laughs].

 **SHORTY** : They look way too… perfect. Like, perfect genes that don’t break down and perfect looks? Perfect form? They look pretty fit in every picture…

 **ROYAL** : There’s no perfection. That’d be saying they _aren’t_ a creation of _men,_ because humans are imperfect, and… therefore, everything he builds is, also, imperfect.

 **SHORTY** : That’s not the defining factor, though. So, if they are a different species, let’s say, that still means they can’t be perfect, biologically. Their genes _must_ be breaking down, just a lot slower than ours.

 **ROYAL** : I’m reading here, looking for some other… stuff…

 **SHORTY** : Chat’s going a little nuts… We’re already talking like it’s real? Well, there _is_ a lot of pictures and videos… There is _something_ here. We just don’t know what it is. It could still all be photoshops…

 **ROYAL** : Hmm…

 **SHORTY** : ‘Check the US activity’, they’re saying… Okay…

…

**ROYAL** : It’s mostly guessed that their genes either break down differently and much more slowly, or… there’s an outside source of genetic information that keeps them from decaying, that is, growing old and dying.

 **SHORTY** : There’s also the accounts that they can recuperate from what would be lethal to us.

 **ROYAL** : But how accurate is that?

 **SHORTY** : Mostly from war stories from grandparents, it seems… I read people saying that they have a grandfather or a grandmother– nurses– who witnessed something like that during the wars… Like a guy who got shot in the head and didn’t die, like, literally resuscitated, or gut-shot or hit by shrapnel and still kept moving, or ignoring limb wounds like it was nothing…

 **ROYAL** : That’d just give credibility to the outside genetic source, no?

 **SHORTY** : That too, but also to clones, aliens, demons and angels and all that nonsense. And like, where would they even get the energy to keep moving, if their bodies were putting all resources towards fixing the damage? That’s impossible.

 **ROYAL** : Yes, just so. Where’s the energy coming from?

 **SHORTY** : Exactly. A-Also, by the way, I’m looking into the US entries.

 **ROYAL** : Anything interesting?

 **SHORTY** : Plenty. It seems most sightings of this guy are just… around the country? Like he’s kind of a normal guy, just going about his day with friends and work, and it looks like a pretty busy life, which is why there are so many of these… He’s the most active.

 **ROYAL** : Most users are Americans, no?

 **SHORTY** : Seems so. But, when you go back the timeline, you find a lot less, and what’s available, it’s in the _Middle East._ Afghanistan and Iraq, right? He looks pretty different, but–

 **ROYAL** : Different person?

 **SHORTY** : No, not really, but just… in temperament, and mood, from what I see. Dude looks okay and happy in recent years. Back then? Looked more like someone ready to murder…

 **ROYAL** : I guess it makes sense…

 **SHORTY** : He was there on 9/11…? Spotted directing first-responders around, was wearing a first-responder jacket over a suit… Looks pretty ragged and upset, and looks like he had a bucket of gravel tossed over him. Hell, maybe he was even _inside_ the building at the time.

 **ROYAL** : …I see it, the picture. Think it’s too much of a hopeful stretch to think they aren’t ever hostile to ‘normal people’?

 **SHORTY** : You kidding me? From everything I’ve been seeing here, they aren’t hostile at all. At least not in Western Europe where they’re most often spotted with people.

 **ROYAL** : Hmm… This is too weird…

 **SHORTY** : What?

 **ROYAL** : Like, only one per country, in most? Participating in the wars, involved with national events, _seemingly_ not hostile to anyone…? It’s just weird. What does that mean to history? What have they been doing all this time? Why have I never noticed this? I study history very often… and…

 **SHORTY** : I dunno. Maybe, just… _living?_

 **ROYAL** : How do they reproduce, by the way…? If they’re just ‘living’, what about families? I didn’t see any women yet.

 **SHORTY** : There are women, I’m pretty sure. Hungary has a woman. I’m not sure about pregnancies and children that look like that. Or at least, I haven’t found them here yet.

 **ROYAL** : Hungary, Hungary… Ah. Oh… She looks pretty… Don’t tell me wife, though. [laughs]

 **SHORTY** : [Laughs] Aah, well. They all look a little too perfect, yeah. I guess the women are the same…

 **ROYAL** : But do they have families with one another? Or can they actually cross with normal human-beings?

 **SHORTY** : I feel like we’d know if they existed for so long and were having families. Their numbers would be pretty big by now. Not like… _one_ in each country at most, with few exceptions.

 **ROYAL** : The ones in the UK all look alike. They do seem related by blood…

 **SHORTY** : Do they? Let me check.

…

**SHORTY** : Huh. They do look alike… That’s weird. Brothers?

 **ROYAL** : Maybe, the eyebrows are the same. [laughs]

 **SHORTY** : So, _so_ stereotypically _British_ , it’s almost like a joke. [laughs]

 **ROYAL** : I know…! It’s weird how… utterly and unabashedly _British_ this absolute manlet looks. He just needs a tweed-suit and a cuppa, and there, that’s– that’s just _Britain in a nutshell._

[laughs]

[pop]

 **ROMA** : Hey, what’s up losers?

 **SHORTY** : Oh, finally here?

 **ROYAL** : Have you deigned to join the conspiracy stream, Roma?

 **ROMA** : Couldn’t resist the topic, this whole thing has been just– just _so_ funny, you know…? [chuckles]

 **SHORTY** : Oh?

 **ROYAL** : Know something we don’t?

 **ROMA** : [laughs] Kinda, uh… Is there uh, one for Romania in that list?

 **ROYAL** : I’ll look…?

 **SHORTY** : I feel like this will be interesting…

…

**ROYAL** : There is. Oh, it’s… almost red eyes on this one…

 **ROMA** : Yup. _This_ guy, I knew it… I– [laughs] I _saw_ this guy. A few years ago…!

 **ROYAL** : Shut up…

 **SHORTY** : Seriously?

 **ROMA** : [laughs]

 **SHORTY** : Was it photoshop? [laughs]

 **ROMA** : NOPE?! [laughs maniacally]

 **ROYAL** : Oh, shut. uuup. Are you kidding me?

 **ROMA** : I’m serious. [laughs] This crazy lunatic– I’m not even kidding, I saw this absolute mad man slap the _mayor_ of Bucharest!

 **SHORTY** : Whaat? The capital?

 **ROMA** : Yeah, and _nobody did anything._ It– it wasn’t even a weak slap, it was a total _bitch_ -slap…! The guy wasn’t even arrested, he went to the bar with some people; the mayor was like– _flabbergasted,_ and there was this– this fucking _G-Man_ pulling him aside and whispering. It was crazy-weird! [laughs]

 **SHORTY** : Holy shit, dude. That _is_ weird.

 **ROYAL** : Well. [laughs]

 **SHORTY** : Why the slap, though?

 **ROMA** : Uuh, I _think_ that mayor got caught up in some, uh, illegal… logging company issue. Honestly, no one was very forthcoming about it. I just heard it had some money-laundering and bribery. Maybe that was why, they were arguing before…

 **ROMA** : But! What I _really_ remember is that _this_ guy’s got some really _sharp_ canines, you know~? [laughs] He straight up looks like a vampire, and he was drinking red wine at the bar.

 **SHORTY** : Really? [laughs] Sounds like a real troll.

 **ROYAL** : You didn’t talk to him, did you?

 **ROMA** : Nah, he left pretty quickly after that, never saw him again, until _this_ thing came up, and when I check, it’s like, bam, there he is again! _Crazy…!_

 **ROMA** : And then I hear they are supposed to be this super-human ancient immortal people who fight in all wars and shit. Like, what? [laughs]

 **ROYAL** : So… You think these are the same people?

 **ROMA** : Eh, who knows? All I know is that this larping-vampire slapped a mayor and went out drinking without being arrested.

 **SHORTY** : [chuckles] A Romanian vampire… That’s funny, I wonder if he lives in Transylvania.

 **ROMA:** Yeah, laugh it up. Imagine how weird it was to _see_ that.

 **ROYAL** : [laughs] So, what? Aliens? [chuckles]

 **ROMA** : Oh, I hope so. I’ve been waiting for aliens, like, yeah, colonize us, baby! I’m totally ready.

 **SHORTY** : Hey now, I don’t wanna be colonized? Canada’s had enough!

 **ROYAL** : [laughs] Laughs in British.

 **ROMA** : Laughs in Turk and Soviet. [laughs] Aah… I hope they’re aliens…

 **ROYAL** : What if it’s something else?

 **SHORTY** : Yeah, let’s talk about the other options, they’re more creative. How about that different species idea? That’s an eerie one…

 **ROMA** : Uuhm, nothing’s ever evolved to live that long. Don’t buy it.

 **ROYAL** : Exactly…

 **SHORTY** : Okay, what about… something literally supernatural?

 **ROMA** : Uuuuugh…

 **ROYAL** : Hmm…

 **SHORTY** : Oh, god, the atheists are cringing everywhere. [laughs]

 **ROMA** : Aren’t you an atheist too?

 **SHORTY** : Well, yeah, but it’s still funny.

 **SHORTY** : Well… I’m not, uhm… I wouldn’t be so against the idea if there was proof, y’know? But… I’ll just assume that there’s a logical explanation for this? That’s just… my _absolute_ last resort. Like, if there’s _literally_ nothing else, and science is _literally_ incapable of explaining, and there’s like… nothing else to say?

 **ROMA** : It’s literally not supernatural if there’s objective proof that can be studied.

 **ROYAL** : Well… I wouldn’t go that far. We can just assume it is something logical and real, but we just haven’t been able to discern it with science… yet…

…

**ROMA** : I’m sorry, we just accepting this?

 **ROYAL** : You’re the one who saw the… What do they call them?

 **SHORTY** : ‘Gaians’? Literally, people of the _earth._

 **ROMA** : So… Are they…

 **ROMA** : …Are they calling them…

 **ROMA** : ‘Dirt people’?

 **SHORTY** : Oof. That’s racist.

 **ROYAL** : Renounced…

[laughs]

 **SHORTY** : So, different species, aliens, uh…

 **ROYAL** : …What if they have always been here…?

 **ROMA** : Hm?

 **ROYAL** : What would that entail? If these things are true? I’m a little curious now… I mean, that was, what…? _Assaulting_ a politician? Can they just _do_ that?

 **SHORTY** : Now that’s… I suppose this is a little weird. Didn’t Romani mention a G-Man?

 **ROMA** : Yeah, there was this shady guy…

 **SHORTY** : You think they work for the government? Or… do they just do whatever they want, and… government just sort of accommodates? If they don’t die that easily, what about their presence in wars…?

 **ROYAL** : Isn’t it interesting that most countries just seem to have one?

 **ROMA** : …Maybe they just don’t like each other.

 **SHORTY** : Well, okay, so– if they have a place they call home, and… if they participate in wars, so maybe they just fought each other. I mean, yeah, maybe they just don’t like each other.

 **ROMA** : Did you see that Eurovision video?

 **ROYAL** : Of the French guy getting a glass to the head? [chuckles] Yes, that was a good British man right there… Are they–?

 **ROMA** : Same guys? The French one and the English one, yeah.

 **ROYAL** : Huh. I didn’t know that at the time. I just thought it was funny.

 **ROYAL** : We don’t actually know how long they’ve actually been alive, or if they aren’t just a lineage. _Actually!_ It’s likely a lineage, god…

 **SHORTY** : If it was a lineage, there’d be some differences, even if they were some kind of ‘superior race’, and Christ, I can’t believe I’m even saying that. Oh, god, what if they _are?_

 **ROMA** : _THE UBERMENSCH!_

 **ROYAL** : [chuckles] Oh, fuck. I guess it’s good they aren’t reproducing…

 **SHORTY** : Oh, god, what if they hate each other so much that they just don’t go near each other? [laughs]

 **ROMA** : Here’s my theory, you peasants!

 **ROYAL** : Go ahead?

 **ROMA** : So, they _are_ Ubermensch, but as long as they hate each other, they don’t procreate, so the _big_ _people_ up there–? They keep them hating each other with wars so they don’t take over and kill and enslave us, inferior humans. I solved it.

[laughs]

 **SHORTY** : Okay, man… I’m sure that’d make for a good dystopic novel…

 **ROYAL** : Or, maybe… they’re just trying to… live their lives. Maybe they like their countries, and join the wars to protect them.

 **SHORTY** : Or, they’re part of the elites, causing wars and making money off our deaths…

 **ROMA** : …Hmm…

 **ROYAL** : Hmm…

 **ROYAL** : Do they look like that…? Why join the war effort? Take up arms…?

 **SHORTY** : Eeeh… I know…

 **ROMA** : …Have you checked the videos in the archives? I’m having a look…

 **SHORTY** : Not yet. Why?

 **ROMA** : I dunno. They just seem… a little weird, but kinda normal? When do _politicians_ and the like just wander around amongst us, the dirty peasants?

 **SHORTY** : Yeah, I’m taking a look… Man, this is so weird, it feels like everyone here is dedicated to _stalking_ a few odd people…

 **ROYAL** : …Hmm…

 **ROYAL** : This is in Turkey… Just a guy petting and feeding a cat. Doesn’t look like someone who… I don’t know, _fought with the_ _Ottoman Empire?_

 **ROMA** : Well, petting an animal doesn’t make you innocent… They oppressed my people! [laughs] But the kitties are cute… I don’t trust anyone who hurts cats…

 **ROYAL** : Yeah…

 **SHORTY** : [chuckles] Comments say he’s seen feeding cats in Istanbul often. I guess he just likes cats– Oh. Same thing happens in Greece, funny that… [chuckles]

 **ROYAL** : The American one gets spotted a lot… And in so many different places, might as well be moving across the country all the time… Usually just hanging out? Talking to people?

 **ROMA** : Read some guy here saying he’s seen him as an _attorney_ once, defending the– this guy, who wrote it, who said he was innocent, and got off pretty quickly.

 **ROYAL** : Huh, Law degree…?

 **SHORTY** : Also working for the government a lot…?

 **ROMA** : Lots of the European ones get seen in Belgium, like, often. Like, they wrote here that now there are people _just_ in Belgium looking for them, and they’re near the– the EU headquarters often… _Illuminati…_

 **ROYAL** : Some secret cabal of ‘super people’, and they just… hang out in public?

 **SHORTY** : I guess they do?

 **SHORTY** : Now isn’t that such a weird version of a conspiracy? That ‘some immortals’ are just out there living, being loyal to their countries, and hanging out? [chuckles]

 **ROMA** : [laughs] Yeah, what kind of overlord drinks with peasants instead of watching from a castle or something? Do they buy their own _groceries_ too?

 **ROYAL** : Ah. Found a picture of the British one–

 **SHORTY** : Such a manlet, eh?

 **ROMA** : [snickers]

 **ROYAL** : At a gardening shop? And he has a _bloody magpie_ on his shoulder…! [laughs]

 **ROMA** : My god, I’ve never seen someone so _British_ before. It’s kinda weird…

 **SHORTY** : [laughs] Well, honestly, if anything, they really don’t look like bad people out to hurt anyone, do they…?

 **ROYAL** : Heh, yeah, yeah, I guess they don’t. At least we have that going for us. [chuckles]

 **SHORTY** : …Oh. Wait, _what…?_

 **ROMA** : What’s up?

 **SHORTY** : Uuuh… Hey, take a look at this…? This, it’s, uh, a new post I just found, I-I’ll send you the link…

…

**ROYAL** : Hm, let me see… “I’ll take him to court.” Hm?

 **ROMA** : What?

 **ROYAL** : “I grew up in Switzerland, and I moved to this place a year ago for a job in Germany. I have dual-citizenship because of my parents, and the house belonged to my grandparents; it was partially destroyed in 1945, then rebuilt after the war. My grandparents were Jewish, they were taken by the Gestapo early on, their house appropriated, only one survived the German camps. So, I was reluctant to move here, but I wanted the job, so I sucked it up and accepted it. A few months in, I’m doing fine, I have nice neighbors, and I took an interest in this subreddit, which I found by accident. I wouldn’t have believed any of it enough to explore further if I hadn’t moved here, because I notice that the old pictures of the ‘German gaians’, both of them, they both look _exactly_ like my current neighbors, Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt, brothers who share a house here in Berlin…” Huh…

 **SHORTY** : Really…? Now that’s interesting… I was starting to wonder of Romani was pulling our leg…

 **ROMA** : I was not.

 **ROYAL** : Right… uhm, “Ludwig B. has always seemed like a serious, hard-working guy; always in a suit, he leaves in the morning and comes back late from work. His brother, Gilbert B. leaves at odd hours in the night and comes back in the early morning, sometimes, or just doesn’t show up for a few days. It doesn’t look like he works, he sounds more like a delinquent, although he’s definitely the older one. In looks, they look exactly like the Nazi soldiers in the pictures, although Ludwig B. clearly tries to look different. Gilbert B. doesn't seem to be trying, he still wears an Iron Cross. I wanted more evidence, however; something verbal to confirm it, and I got it a few months ago. Don’t ask me how. Ever since, I’ve been wrestling internally about what to do. I’ve been watching them whenever I could, but I was thinking about just moving. Even if Switzerland also has one of their kind living there, at least that one doesn’t look like much more of a threat to me. Being here near them makes me anxious and afraid; sometimes I wonder if they know I’m part Jewish, and whether it bothers them or not. I’ve had nightmares about being killed by one or both of them a few times now…”

 **ROMA** : Wow…

 **ROYAL** : I mean… If _I_ were Jewish, and found out I was living next to maybe-immortal-Nazi soldiers? I guess I’d be nervous too…?

 **SHORTY** : No kidding… Man… This is a rough thing to have in your head for months. But… the court?

 **ROYAL** : Oh, yeah… “This is starting to become too stressful," uhm, "it’s affecting my work performance as well. But then I overhear that Ludwig B. actually works for the German government.” Oh?

 **ROMA** : Confirmation, at least some of them work for governments…

 **ROYAL** : “I’ve been thinking that it’s not fair that these two get to live this easily when they were involved with something so abhorrent and inhumane, and with the death of my grandfather. I understand that many were just following orders and fighting for their country, but they’re human, they grow old and die too. Not these two. They weren’t dressed like trench soldiers, but actually high-ranking members of the Nazi Party and the army, and they’re _still_ here, living like nothing happened? This is not right, and I have to assume the German government knows who they are. I’m taking this to court and to the media if needed. We’ll see if I get arrested for speaking out against this injustice.” Oh, wow…

 **SHORTY** : What the fuck, man…

 **ROMA** : Welp. If government is involved, and who the fuck knows who these people actually are, but if they _are_ actually important in _any_ way: who thinks any charges will stick?

 **ROYAL** : Or even reach the media? Who knows… This could be interesting…

 **ROMA** : [laughs] Oh, man, I guess we shall see, eh?

 **SHORTY** : Yeah, I guess we’ll wait and see indeed, guys.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know much about Law, but this is still a plot I want to try and tackle somehow. There'll be more than one arc about this reveal too. This is really just the first one, and it'll be a short one too.
> 
> It's still not going to be an explosive reveal, because even at this point, there are media barriers that'd stop this from going too far. One thing that I generally don't like about most reveal-fics is how unbalanced and 'overpowered' the media is, like they're all completely autonomous from the system as a whole. I'm pretty sure most governments would have put rules and regulations to stop the media from accidentally exposing their nations.  
> It's a battle for information here, and the internet is winning because the internet is the Wild West of mass information sharing. But traditional media, TV? That's not a field they have any real advantage in.  
> The streamers are based on some real YTbers I follow for news and stuff, but you don't have to worry about who they're based in, I just needed a baseline for them, which made writing nothing but their back-and-forth dialogue really easy. I hope it was at least interesting to read.
> 
> Now, the elephant in the room:
> 
> I realize some people get nervous and offended over simply _mentioning_ Islam in any negative way shape or form, but this is something I wanted to touch on concerning nations, as 'real beings' in this story...
> 
> I really enjoyed learning about the history of the Ottoman Empire (and a clever guy once described it as '600 years of adventures or something'). It was great, and it made understanding some Balkan history a lot easier as well, since that area was under Ottoman rule for a while, and also under Austrian rule for a while too (that is, if I'm not misremembering stuff). This is why the Balkans is such a diverse mix of Christians and Muslims, as they were squeezed between two major empires, Christians to the north (and east, with Russia), Muslims to the south. It's very interesting, I recommend looking into it. :D
> 
> But I wanted to emphasize the idea that... if a nation had too many negative experiences with nations/groups of a particular creed, they'd rightfully and understandably develop prejudices and fears when it comes to that creed (even if a nation like America tries to resist this impulse, he's no saint). I keep the headcanon that nations don't forget the past and have a hard time forgiving because those negative experiences aren't just about what happened to them personally, but also what happened to their people because of it. Hungary, for example, would have a very complicated relationship with Turkey himself, but I don't see her having a very positive opinion about Islam because of how she and her people were treated under the Ottomans. For a character with her history, it seemed like an appropriate reaction for her in this story. So therefore, the same goes for Romania, Bulgaria, Greece, and the other Balkans (Hungary's not really Balkan, tho).
> 
> Of course, the same applies for the other side of the coin, as Christian nations weren't the only ones hurt by history. All nations have their biases and prejudices and fears when it comes to this, because this is something I like to highlight... They all hurt each other at some point.
> 
> It's worth mentioning that while Europeans were killing people over religious differences, the Ottomans were considered fairly mercantile and tolerant of Protestants, Catholics, Jews, and the empire was full of people from all walks of life, but... they were still second-class citizens under Muslims, and by today's standards, it was _very_ abusive. It was better than the Europeans' religious wars, sure, but it wasn't good.
> 
> Most of Europe had issues with the Ottomans and other groups of Muslims, tbh. I don't think ignoring that is either fair or realistic for these characters. Their biases, unreasonably negative as some may find them, are based on past experiences, and that's a decent basis for conflict, which gets tangled with the plot of this fic.
> 
> That said, I have some different ideas of how some characters are portrayed here, compared to their canon-counterparts.  
> Poland is a Slavic Christian asshole with lots of sass, but he's also very headstrong, and not gay(?) like in canon (I mean, c'mon, look at real-world Poland...! His APH depiction makes literally no sense! lol). Spain was once Al-Andalus, and so he was a Muslim for a good chunk of his childhood. France reeeally doesn't like religion in any form, doesn't believe in it, at all (although, if he gets drunk enough, he might find himself questioning this).
> 
> Some characters were quiet and didn't say much, but I tried to leave subtle hints for the future.
> 
> Either way, I hope this makes sense, thanks for reading. :)


	8. Some Legal Trouble Right Next Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, let the mess begin.

**Berlin**

**7PM**

Before Germany even left his house to catch his flight to New York, a few knocks on the door made him pause.

Germany stopped halfway into donning a coat over his suit, before dressing fully and moving to answer it.

He adjusted his glasses as he opened it, and he blinked as he was greeted by _police officers?_

“Yes, can I help you?” Germany asked quietly. Did something happen? He felt some _unease_ emanating from them.

The male officer looked at him up and down. “Are you Ludwig Beilschmidt?”

Germany’s brows tilted up, troubled by the cautious tone. “Yes, I… I am…” He replied slowly.

“Right, uh, we’ll have to ask you to come quietly, Herr Beilschmidt.” The officer said, shifting slightly on his feet.

_“Huh?!”_

“You are under arrest.” The female officer finally said.

“How– W-What do you mean ‘I’m under arrest’? What’s happening?” Germany stepped back, eyes wide.

“You’ll hear the charges at the station, sir. Please, come along now.” She gestured to the cop car behind.

“But–" He couldn't understand why this was happening, he could hardly believe it. "No, wait, I-I need to make a call, this is some kind of mistake–” It _had_ to be, naturally.

“You can do that at the station, _sir.”_ The female officer stressed further, although Germany felt some nervousness from her…

They were both very _tense._

“Wha– But…” The words were stuck in his throat, and… part of him wanted to demand answers, to say they had _no right_ to drag him anywhere, he's not a _civilian,_ he's the _nation…!_

But… he _hated_ acting like he's some kind of higher authority, and he genuinely didn’t want to cause a ruckus…

Germany took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to stop his derailing thoughts, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, alright… I’ll– I'll go, just give me a second…” He turned back in.

The male officer stepped forth. “Sir, I–!”

A moment of _impatience_ struck Germany and he turned back with a sharp swipe of his hand. “I said 'WAIT'.” A pang of _regret_ hit him, and he sighed, turning away from their shocked looks, reaching for the keys in the bowl on the stand near the door.

He hated his own impatience, and he hated to dip into his power as a nation to force his will upon humans, even if it was just a small amount of force poured into this command… but he wasn’t in a good mood…

He just… needed to calm down and think, go along with it and figure out what was wrong, before succinctly solving the issue…

_Everything was fine… It was probably just a misunderstanding, an error in the logbooks, or some other logistic issue with his human name…_

Germany followed them out, turning off the light on the way and locking the door behind him. “Alright, then…”

When he turned to the cruiser, he felt dread. _Oh, what would his neighbors think…_

He wished he could just get a damn taxi instead… But he swallowed his _shame_ and climbed inside with no further protest, glad that at least he wasn’t handcuffed…

_He wouldn’t have been able to let them handcuff him. That would’ve been too much…_

That was how he found himself in the police precinct, where he spent around two hours in a cell, fretting, before he was _finally_ told the circumstances. He doesn't know what took them so long, although…

Now he knew it was no mistake… And he knew what got the officers so spooked…

Someone actually sued him, _someone who so clearly knew exactly who he was… Because no one else who knew him as a ‘normal citizen’ would ever find proof of such a thing…_

_He hasn't even interacted with the military and its affairs since 45… Much less with ideologically suspicious groups. He's been doing nothing but honest work ever since…_

But now, everyone in the station was giving him odd looks.

Suspicious looks.

The accusation was particularly heinous, of course, and those who heard it were immediately on the backfoot with him.

It didn’t help that Germany didn’t have the guts to _deny_ the accusation and only stuttered around it, trying not to drown in his own guilt. He wasn't what it accused him of being, but… _he was back then._

That only exacerbated things, and no doubt, the police officers certainly thought he was guilty of _something._

 _Who knows what they’d share on social media now…_ This is such a disaster, at the _worst_ possible moment…

He should be flying to New York… Not stuck here…!

Eventually, he’s granted permission to make calls, and it's implicit that they wanted him to call a _lawyer,_ which he didn't have… It’s the police line, a line where he couldn’t speak so privately, so…

He couldn’t quite call his government, or the BMI, it’d sound so suspicious, and it’d drag his government into some kind of scandal… _A government official accused of having fascist inclinations was just… not something he wanted to saddle his Chancellor with…_

No, no, she didn’t need that right now…

Germany sighed, resigning himself to calling his brother…

* * *

**9PM**

Prussia growled under his breath, wrapping up the last bag and zipping it closed.

“This is such fucking shit.” He spat out of sheer frustration.

Thankfully, neither of them had a lot of personal baggage and personal belongings, and so, as he carried it outside, he tossed it into the car with the rest of it, which he parked on the other side of the road instead.

Prussia patted himself, glancing around as he tried to remember if he forgot anything…

Probably not, but he wanted to be safe, so he locked the car and speed-walked back to the house.

He scrounged around for anything he might have forgotten, any work papers left, clothes, personal affections, small decorations… But found nothing, so this was a good last sweep…

This one was a _record_ of speedy packing, Prussia praised his own efficiency.

As he checked, he heard noise outside, in the distance. _Fuck, already…?_ Prussia thought he had a little more time, but clearly, his intel-gathering skills were getting rusty.

The few opportunities he had to practice such skills weren’t enough…

_Gone soft over the years, huh?_

Prussia pulled out his phone and quickly dialed 110 for the police. It picked up quickly enough and Prussia turned off the last light in the house as he walked out of the balcony, locking the door and then leaning over the railing to see…

_“This is the Berlin Police speaking, what’s your emergency?”_

Prussia narrowed his eyes. “Hey, uh, there’s a small group of ‘angry youths’ _marching_ towards my house?” He almost scoffed in mild annoyance. “Mind sending some people? They’ll torch things without police here.”

He knew this shit was likely to happen _eventually…_

Fucking Blackshirts. Or whatever equivalent was used for mob intimidation tactics these days.

Nothing but stupid brats in masks thinking they were going to enact ‘justice’ or something, now dressed in Italian black instead old-school German brown.

Less formal and less organized, but he still thought it fit. ‘Nostalgic’, but stupid.

There was only a small pause, probably out of confusion. _“Right away, sir. Please remain on the call. The police are being dispatched to your current location.”_

“I’ll be fine. I’m just worried about the neighborhood. Hurry up.” He ended the call and sighed, taking a brief moment to lean on the railing. He's so glad his brother is flying to New York, instead of being around to deal with this bullshit…

Prussia doubted his little brother, who was messed up and wracked with guilt for so long, would react appropriately to a mob of self-righteous brats demanding _apologies_ and…

Well, that's what Prussia feared… That such people would demand _more_ than just apologies… _It annoyed him to think that Germany thought Prussia wasn't so worried it kept him from sleeping sometimes…_

He turned to the other end of the road, to another house.

_He **was** worried… which is why he's been investigating…_

Prussia’d been eyeing that place for a while now…

Knowing that whoever knew of their past knew their current address, Prussia pretended to drop the topic entirely with his brother.

 _It’s fine, they could stay in this house… He doubted this would happen again, he said._ _His little brother liked being told that everything was fine…_

That was last year. There were no further incidents for him to worry about.

After that, Prussia just _watched,_ and waited until the culprit showed himself or dropped hints here and there, so Prussia would be able to triangulate _who_ in the neighborhood was acting suspiciously towards his brother.

The culprit was eventually pinpointed by Prussia and his gut-feeling.

Prussia huffed and hopped over the railing, knowing damn well he was being watched.

At best, the police would arrive before those fucking brats damaged anything, but Prussia had other businesses to take care of.

He reached the right house and walked up the steps, before banging on the door with a closed fist several times. "I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, YOU BRAT! OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!”

No response. The lights were off. But he knew the place wasn’t empty.

His keen ears picked up sound from the second floor. Prussia paced in a circle, hands on his waist. Then, “Fuck it.” he walked down the steps and began to climb his way to the balcony.

An old slide-door stood in his way, locked. Prussia pulled out a knife from his boot and broke the lock harshly with no care. “If that’s how you wanna play, just fuck it, then.” He pushed the door open with a bang.

Prussia raised an eyebrow at the darkness and made a visible movement to stash the knife back in the boot.

A few seconds of silence, Prussia tapped his foot a few times, looking around the silent room.

He could hear a very soft but rapid breathing, and the slight creaks of wood settling.

Prussia walked forth towards the light switch on the other end of the room.

Before he even touched it, wood creaked more loudly, and something pointy touched his lower back.

Prussia let it happen.

“D-Don’t move.” A young voice trembled behind.

Right on time, police sirens sounded in the distance, distracting the young man for a split-second. Prussia scoffed softly and turned, quickly grabbing a human wrist.

The young man gritted his teeth, panic making him pull back and retaliate with a kick. Prussia grabbed his ankle and pulled, letting gravity take care of the rest, making him yelp as he fell.

Prussia easily wrestled the switchblade out of his hand and stepped back. “You’re too green to fight me, stupid brat.”

He expertly flipped the blade in his hand as the young man pulled himself away, standing clumsily in his panic. No older than 23, a little short… He had looked into this person once he began to suspect him, and while he forgot the kid's exact name, he remembers clearly that he's a _Swiss._

Prussia rolled his eyes, flipping the blade one more time before tossing it at the wall, where it embedded in the wooden paneling. "Well?" He demanded sharply.

The human twitched hard, unable to avoid looking at the blade. Now Prussia was blocking the only way out of the room, other than the balcony; its door was still broken and open, letting in light from the street and the moon.

The human’s breathing was ragged as he internally considered his options. The fear was so blatant, but at least the kid was no coward, he wasn’t crying and panicking…

Still… Seeing such _fear_ in the face of someone so young…

“What. You think I’m going to _kill_ you?” Prussia asked in annoyance, lifting his arms.

Kid gulped, swaying on his feet, as if considering trying to dodge and run past him. “Wouldn’t be the first Jew you murder, would I?” There was a pure, quietly simmering hatred in those few words.

Prussia blinked, suddenly understanding _exactly_ what was happening. “Ooh, I see…” He exhaled in disbelief, eyes wandering away for a bit, his shoulders relaxing considerably. “Okay… _You_ don’t know _shit_ about me, or my brother.” He glanced back at him and wagged a finger. “But I’m sure you already made lots of assumptions while _sneaking_ around…”

Prussia _did_ notice that this person was trying to spy on them, but wasn’t as subtle as he thought… Prussia deigned to leave him alone, just to see what he’d do.

Maybe that was a mistake after all… “You’ve shared our address online, haven’t you?”

No response again, only an anxious glare.

The police sirens and the dogs barking were annoying as hell, then the sound of glass shattering and shouting… _Shit, stupid kids…_ The young man’s eyes wandered to the side, wanting to turn to look, but not quite able to turn his back to Prussia.

Prussia shook his head. “You didn’t think for a _second_ about the ruckus those idiots would cause, huh? Now the whole neighborhood is in a tizzy.” He gestured vaguely to the balcony. “Those fucking Blackshirts you lured here could have easily decided to burn things. Then _what?_ Most Germans in this area are young families, just so you know.” Prussia approached, ignoring how the brat immediately stepped back.

“…And you care that much about _Germans,_ huh…?” The brat muttered cautiously.

“I _really_ don’t see what you mean.” Prussia narrowed his eyes, losing his patience with the moral self-righteousness plus ignorance, the configuration of someone on a crusade while unaware of the _circumstances_ of the target in question…

Then, his phone rang, interrupting any comeback the kid was about to spout, and Prussia stopped, clicking his tongue.

Pulling it from his pocket, he could see his brother’s name. “What…?” He frowned and stepped back to lock the door behind him, snatching the key. “You stay right there, I’m not done.” He swiped the screen and lifted it to his ear. “…Shouldn’t you be flying to New York right now?” Prussia turned on the light and pocketed the key, walking aside, looking away from the brat.

No need to be afraid of turning his back, honestly… Even if Switzerland makes sure to train the basics into his young citizens, this is still a totally green kid.

‘Let’s just see what he does’, Prussia decided… To see how hostile he was. See if he _tries_ to test his fucking luck.

_“Ja, I… I’m on a police line, at the Berlin station.”_

Prussia blinked, genuinely startled by this admission. “What? _Why?”_

_“It seems there’s a lawsuit filed against my… my name…”_

“What…?? Lawsuit?!” Prussia raised his voice and narrowed his eyes, then turned to the brat with an annoyed, knowing look. He saw him snatching the switchblade carefully, looking mighty suspicious then… _like he just heard something interesting,_ but not very surprising. “You don’t say…” Prussia muttered, brows furrowing.

He could see his hand tightening around the blade’s handle, nervously leaning towards the locked door.

Well, he wasn’t leaving just yet, they needed to have a little _chat…_

Was _this_ brat suing his brother, or someone _else?_ What the fuck… Time to intervene.

_“So… I uh, I wanted to call Herr Hafner, to let him sort this out–”_

_Dammit, no…_ Prussia interrupted. “You know what, don’t. Just _wait_ there. I’ll be there in a bit.”

_“What?”_

_“I’m_ sorting this out, you hear me? Don’t drag _anyone_ in, just ask Herr Hafner to send someone who knows _our_ laws, and just wait there. Just say it’s a small issue with Zwingli.” He hoped that was subtle enough…

_“Huh…? Herr Zwingli? Wh– What are you doing?”_

“Just _trust_ your big brother, alright?” Prussia said softly with a small smile and ended the call, then turned to the curious brat, who was itching close to the door. “Is this _your_ doing?" Oh, he looked somewhat self-righteously satisfied about it, so maybe it was him… _"Suing_ my brother?” Prussia grinned, almost in disbelief. “What the fuck, you ballsy brat.” He’s genuinely baffled.

Kid looked somewhat triumphant at the prospect, and his hand held the door’s handle, trying it fruitlessly. There was _something_ he wanted to say, but was clearly hesitating.

Maybe he thought he couldn’t _afford_ to say it while stuck in a room with him, maybe he still thought Prussia would kill him at the slightest misstep…

“You know what? Doesn’t matter.” But Prussia didn’t bother listening and turned away again, leaning against the balcony doorway. “You’re Swiss, right?” He glanced back, seeing the kid’s eyes widening. “Yeah, too gutsy to be _Austrian…”_ He chuckled to himself.

Prussia could see a small ruckus near the house they’d been living in for two years. The police was hesitant to disperse them with riot-tactics in a suburban neighborhood.

_Goddammit, how he hates these fucking Blackshirts…_

He dialed another number and waited, until– _“Why are YOU calling me?”_

“Herr Vash Zwingli!” Prussia announced with a grin and glanced back at the Swiss brat, who was looking quizzically and suspiciously at him. “I’ve got one of _yours_ here, causing us a _fuckton_ of trouble.” Prussia gave him a deadpan glare. 

He got a sigh first. _“I don’t see why you’ve decided to bother me about it. I’m in New York. Let bureaucrats handle that.”_

“Yeah, but it’s no criminal here, it’s a brat, with a rather… righteous grudge, let’s say…” Prussia glanced at him again with a small shrug. “There’s _police_ around my house, and a bunch of fucking Blackshirts that this idiot lured here by sharing our address, now he’s trying to drag _that_ _shit_ from the past to _court._ Take him back to Switzerland or he’ll get himself into some _deep_ trouble.”

 _“Oh, you’ve got to…”_ Another weary sigh. _“I’ll tell Emma, let her do damage control once she gets here.”_

“Ja, I don’t want this reaching the–” The humans… “those fucking _idiots_ in the council…” The EU council, in particular. “We’ll sort this out on our own, quickly.”

_“Right… Just stall. I’ll be there tomorrow morning. What’s his name?”_

Prussia turned. “Oi, what’s your name again?”

No response for a few seconds. The kid was _listening,_ holding the blade with a looser grip. “Elias… Mintz.” He enunciated more slowly, and leaned back against the door.

_A variant of Elijah, meaning ‘The Lord is my God’, a nice name…_

Prussia nodded. “Hear that? ‘Elias Mintz’, 20-somethings, Jewish ancestry. Be here in Berlin soon.” Prussia ended the call, aware that it probably sounded ominous… and he gave the brat a tired glare. “Jesus still loves you, but you’re a _fucking_ idiot.”

Mintz gave him an incredulous look, eyes wide, then shook his head. “Let me out.”

Prussia spun on his feet to face him fully, hands on his waist. “You’re poking a bear and you don’t even know it. I guess _I’ll_ have to be the adult here and sort it out before you get yourself into trouble…!” He lifted his arms.

“What…?”

Prussia rolled his eyes impatiently. “ _You_ will be coming with me to the police station.”

“I’m not going _anywhere_ with _you.”_ That made him defensive again.

Prussia gave him an annoyed grin and approached. “Yes, you are.”

Mintz gritted his teeth and pointed the blade. “Don’t come near me, you–”

Prussia wasn’t deterred and continued to approach. “Come along, or I’ll have the police _drag_ you.”

“Y-You _can’t_ do that…!”

“Yes, I _literally_ can. Now put the blade _down.”_ Prussia gestured at it as he approached.

Despite being so damn green and panicky, the brat did somehow have the guts to actually swing at him with accuracy.

Prussia wasn’t expecting that, _rusty_ as he was, and it nicked his forearm. “What the– oh, fuck this.” He rolled his eyes. It didn’t really hurt, he’s had _so_ much worse. He grabbed the brat’s wrist in a quick blink and, once again, wrestled it out of his hand, before biting the blade and breaking it off its handle, tossing it aside.

Prussia spat out the blade's pieces, and Mintz’s eyes widened like dinner plates. He flattened himself against the door, hand blindly searching the handle as if it’d help. “Oh, what the fuck…”

“That’s why kids shouldn’t play with sharp things.” Prussia muttered and grabbed the brat.

He fought back, as expected, but Prussia simply wrestled him with an arm around his neck. “Come on, _stop,_ I’m not gonna hurt ya…! We’re just talking to the police for a bit…!”

He still struggled on his feet as Prussia dragged him out of the room. “Argh! Let _go_ of me, you– fucking Nazi bastard!” He shouted, voice deepening with a more furious vocal force.

Prussia gritted his teeth. “Shut the fuck up, I’m not a Nazi.” _This was so annoying…_

“Don't fucking touch me! Let go, fucking _murderer!”_

Prussia scowled and dragged him to the stairs, ignoring his struggling with little effort, then grabbed him by the midsection, carrying him downstairs even as he flailed.

“I told you…” Prussia growled under his breath. “You don’t know me _or_ my brother. Whoever you think I killed, I guarantee you, I _didn’t.”_ Not personally, at least…

He stopped in a hallway, searching for the entrance, ignoring the dark.

“Shut… up! You– inhuman freak…! Let go of me!” Mintz hissed, with his feet scraping the ground for leverage, but he was just a little too short and too weak compared to Prussia. “Who the FUCK do you think you are, huh?! Why are you still here?!”

This was grinding his gears so badly… “…You don’t know anything. You just don’t fucking know…” Prussia reached the living room and the front door.

The kid was getting tired already, mostly resorting to pushing himself away with no avail. “L-Like _hell_ I don’t know…! You should be in fucking jail, goddamn Nazi monsters like you…! You don’t _get_ to LIVE like this…!” He was getting gutsy with his accusations…

Prussia stopped and scowled darkly, hand on the handle just as he felt a hand reaching for the knife on his boot, then he turned back and tossed the idiot over the living room’s couch, not giving him a chance to try that bullshit.

Mintz clumsily scrambled to stand and look at him, gritted teeth and a sneer, only to gasp and back off.

“…Nevermind that we’ve already been _trialed_ in ‘46…” Prussia hissed and leaned closer, glare dark, his tone chilling as he loomed over the shorter human. “and nevermind the _45_ _years_ I spend as a _slave_ behind the Berlin Wall… Nevermind that Hitler wanted to get _rid_ of me, and never mind that my little brother shot that bastard dead in his _fucking_ bunker.” Mintz’s eyes widened, “I understand none of that will register in your thick _human_ skull, so I’ll let this shit go… _However,_ if you call me a Nazi… one more _fucking_ time…” and Prussia lifted a finger, staring right into his eyes. _“I’ll do to you what the Soviets did to me.”_

Prussia let his nation presence do the talking behind his words, digging deep into this human’s psyche that he was in the presence of a force of fucking _nature,_ a threat bigger than a fellow human or even any wild animal, with the weight of a charging cavalry…

Mintz shrunk under his glare, freezing up like a pale rabbit.

“Now…” Prussia finally relented, letting the weighted presence simmer down, just slowly enough to linger. He backed away, reaching for the front door. “If you’re done acting like a _child,_ maybe we can go back to saving your skin.”

Mintz didn’t look at him, his breathing ragged as he recovered. He gulped, before finally muttering. “…Huh…?”

Prussia opened the door, smiling coyly. “You don’t want the entire EU and the UN getting involved and ruining your life, do you? Vashy-dude would be mad at my brother and I if that happened with one of his people.” He smirked and walked outside. He waited a few seconds, letting Mintz settle and register the words, then Prussia heard clothes shuffling.

Prussia’s smirk widened, and he pulled out the phone he _swiped_ while holding the kid, and he turned back to lean inside, waving the device. “By the way, I’ll be taking _this_ for now. Wouldn’t want you doing anything _funny_ online while I’m away.” He still smirked at Mintz’s incredulous but fearful look. “Wait there, I’ll talk to the police, and then we’ll sort this out at the station.”

With that, Prussia finally walked away.

He took his wallet from his back-pocket, searching for his badge. _Alright… Time to be a responsible brother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prussia to the rescue. He may be a bit of a wildcard, but he's still very competent and reliable, when he _feels_ like being competent and reliable, that is.  
> …Also yeah, that'd be Antifa that Prussia labeled as 'Blackshirts/Brownshirts', as they use similar tactics. And since Prussia lived under _both_ fascist and communist regimes, he'd have a strong distaste for whatever form it takes, for whatever reason. Whether someone finds it accurate or not is not the point. A character like Prussia, I feel, would see enough parallels to label them as such.
> 
> Also yes, that was a mention of Germany and a certain someone in a bunker. I'll eventually get to WWII in this AU, although I want to write some one-shots as part of a series.
> 
> Anyway, anyone minds some human POV next chapter? I personally like to write from a completely oblivious POV of someone who has literally no real context of what they're _actually_ dealing with. :D
> 
> This is just the first event, and it'll have consequences, ofc, but the scale is too small to explode just yet. These events will slowly escalate, which is something I rarely see in these sorts of fics. As someone in the comments pointed out, we rarely see the _build-up_ leading up to it.
> 
> (Sorry, no trial in full detail, I don't think I can actually write that, I know nothing of Law, much less German Law lol)
> 
> I'm also happy to write a little more about nations dealing with each other's citizens when they cause trouble abroad, the first tidbit being Japan dealing with a few nosy tourists. :3 This one will drag a bit further due to its nature, as it can't be solved with a single call.
> 
> Anyhow, thanks for reading! :D Everyone's been very kind so far, and it's great. <:3
> 
> [Hey, I got a Gab account. Twitter sucks.](https://gab.com/Ms_YYK) For random videos I find, funny or serious, memes, excerpts from what book I'm reading, and random thoughts. Yes, I know the infamy it has. Still better than Twitter.


	9. Not Quite Like You Planned It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! I hope life isn't beating you all too badly. lol

**…**

A few months ago, he visited his ailing grandmother at home, back in Switzerland…

Just for the weekend.

Her mind has been deteriorating for a few years now, and he’d hardly get a coherent conversation out of her. He could only do his best to keep her happy in her last years…

But in this last visit, he felt a very tempting need to ask her something, even if he thought she wouldn’t be able to answer, or worse, she’d remember something unpleasant…

His father would be very upset if Grandma began to cry…

Grandma, _back then,_ had been a beautiful young woman, freshly married but uncertain about their future in a country that increasingly showed itself _hostile_ to them for their heritage.

It’s unfortunate that she was painfully optimistic, and that she convinced her lovestruck husband to feel the same. They failed to escape in time.

Maybe, he'd once thought bitterly, if they weren't looking at that nation with such rose-colored glasses, they'd have seen the glaring red flags…

They hesitated too much, they were too attached to what they had, they didn’t want to leave, they didn’t think things would escalate to that level, they wanted to _believe_ in their country, and they regretted it later.

Elias, as a young kid, heard this story from her and others in the family, and he’s held _contempt_ for that nation ever since.

It’s only as he grew and learned that he matured enough emotionally to understand that he couldn’t hold contempt for the new generations, who knew better and were _innocent…_

The people of Germany are a hard-working, stern, but decidedly kind people.

They weren’t the _monsters_ his grandmother once described in her saner years. The guards who played songs and smiled and joked with each other while holding the keys to the cages of genocidal camps.

While hesitant, this personal growth and maturity were the only reason he even got the courage to step foot in that country to work.

He didn't dare visit the remnants of those camps, afraid of that old feeling of _contempt_ popping up again in his mind. But he somehow found an equivalent anyway… While browsing _Reddit_ of all places.

When he first sees _those_ photos, after wandering around the website at night and abruptly finding the Gaia subreddit, that old revulsion was evoked, just like in his younger days.

He felt contempt again, and he really couldn't help it.

Then, while visiting, when he gathered his wits and showed Grandma the pictures of those two Nazi officers…

His grandmother didn’t quite recognize one of them, she’s still not quite coherent and even this didn't draw painful memories, thankfully… but when she sees the other…? The younger-looking one?

Her eyes _light_ _up_ for the first time in months. _“Oh… He was such a handsome young man…”_ She did cry, her voice still so soft in her old age. _Thank God his father wasn't present to scold him for it…_

But she cried telling him that for _some_ reason, she…

She thought that _this guy_ was going to _save_ her.

She believed that the moment she saw him, and he didn’t understand her rambling reasoning.

It somehow sounded like _love at first sight,_ which was terribly silly and also worrying. Seeing the picture made her both happy and heart-broken.

Like she was looking at an old crush from her childhood, someone who hurt her badly…

She wanted to run to him and ask for help, she wanted a hug, and comfort, she believed he’d _protect_ her, and that he’d save her from that horrible hell…

Because she loved Germany, despite everything… She was young and it’s where she grew up, she loved the woods and the roads alike, the music, and the books. She believed it was all a mistake, she couldn’t _believe_ they were actively targeting people like her on purpose…

Even if a few lunatics were saying terrible things, she didn’t think the _people_ would…

Well, that’s what she had told him years ago.

Now, it was something else she said.

 _He_ didn’t save her.

This young Nazi officer, who his grandmother _immediately_ trusted to save her, who she found so perfectly beautiful like a _fucking_ angel, looked at her approach with pure scorn, backhanded her for approaching him, and called her ‘Jewish scum’, before leaving with not another glance at her.

Who knows what happened after…? She broke the rules, she stopped working. She doesn't remember _that,_ and it was probably for the best…

…Out of all memories to preserve in such crystal-clear detail in her head, this was one of the few she remembered most vividly…

…She’d never seen him before, she never saw him again, and this, more than anything, _somehow, for some damn reason,_ made her cry in her cell for days…

…She said she’d accepted then and there, that it wasn’t a mistake that she was in that camp… Her country despised her very existence… They _all_ despised her.

Somehow, _that_ interaction crushed her heart and led her to _that_ conclusion…

Despite everything _else_ that happened around her, _that_ was _somehow_ the biggest reality-check…

Not the fact that a man such as Hitler rose to power. Not that the Jewish people were being blamed for everything wrong. Not that the state’s police came to her house to take her and her new husband away. Not that she was put in a camp to work to death. Not that she lost her first baby in that hell.

 _That._ Talking to _this_ guy, _somehow_ got it through.

She’s always been a little clueless at that age, his parents once told him. Just happy to be married and begin her life as a mother.

Ironically, this event ended up being the trigger to give his grandmother the courage to eventually escape and survive…

 _This_ event… It might have been the reason why his family even exists… _What if she had continued to lie to herself, delude herself? What if she’d taken longer to realize? Maybe another day too late would have been her last, he wouldn't know._

But Elias didn’t really understand why she spoke like this. His grandmother made no sense here… She wanted to keep the picture.

It was on his phone. He didn't let her look at it again…

He left Switzerland again, more befuddled and confused than when he arrived.

**Berlin**

And then, one day, he actually _saw_ them.

Essentially right next to him, just a few houses away.

He _had_ seen them before, but it didn’t register until the third time he looked… He rarely paid any attention to _neighbors… Who does that these days…?_

He rechecked the photos, tried to compare, and found himself increasingly nervous.

_They were the same people…?_

He tried asking questions online, but no one could tell him for sure if those two were still… still aligned with any kind of agenda… They couldn’t tell if he was in danger or not, although he tried to be vague and these guys online didn’t know he was literally _next_ to them…

_But what if they weren’t the same men? What if this was really just a bunch of paranoid people online, and it was all hogwash?_

…He needed some confirmation, a sign. But he couldn’t just walk up to them and ask ‘Hey, are you immortal? And by the way, are you still a Nazi?’ He had no idea how to approach and extract that sort of information without looking suspicious as hell.

So, writing such an accusatory message in spray paint in the middle of the night was a risky move to pull on someone’s house, but he needed to see their reaction…

It took him a while to decide, but he needed _something…_

It’s lucky that this was an old neighborhood that had no cameras, it’s allowed him some safety to try, and he barely got the courage to do it, _but he **needed** to check._

_‘I know who you are’_

_He didn’t, or, wasn’t sure at least…_

Then…

When he doesn’t see any confusion or even anger, when he sees _fear,_ and what’s downright a confirmation of a past full of wrongdoings, Elias knows right then and there who he’s dealing with…

Just being near that man, right there, made him feel _awful_ for a moment…

He considered asking, actually asking the real questions in his head, shouting and demanding answers, but… He ended up slinking away like a coward…

Seeing them was _nothing_ like reading from the occasional internet self-proclaimed 'Nazis' who spouted nonsense at every turn. Those made him scoff, they were just edgy idiots, and they never caused a cold shiver to run down his spine.

‘Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt’ did, those were cursed names like all the others from the Nazi Party in his head after that.

Like hearing ‘Hitler’ or 'Himmler', it made him shiver with icy uncertainty. It evoked immediate and reflexive disgust.

It just got worse when the nightmares began, mixing up with the documentaries and the photos, where he found himself in those camps, then terrifyingly real and in painstaking detail he never knew he was capable of conceiving, with those two as his guards, as cruel and chillingly dismissive as his grandmother described them.

Sometimes even enacting the exact same scene she’d described. The feeling of _betrayal_ was palpable. Of wanting to be helped and being denied by someone who he knew acted so nice to his _German_ neighbors, but not to _him_.

Sneering and mocking, looking at him as if he were nothing but dirt, ignoring his pleas for humane mercy with such cold disdain.

The ones where he woke up just as he was murdered were the worst, and he couldn’t go back to sleep after those.

Days and nights went by, and this began to occupy more space in his head.

Watching those two felt more like self-preservation, like he was expecting them to eventually find out his heritage and become hostile, to slink into his home and slash his throat while he slept, and as the weeks went by, he often considered just going home…

Run away while he could.

_Don’t make the same mistake as Grandma and her first husband. They took too long to run and paid for it._

Switzerland also had one of their _kind,_ but… that one was never a Nazi, was he…?

And again… it didn’t feel _fair_ to see how… _natural_ people acted around Ludwig Beilschmidt whenever he came and went…

It was eerie, _creepy,_ to see them talking to him like he was a _respectable_ member of their community…

_They had no goddamn idea… did they?_

And then there’s Gilbert Beilschmidt, going off in the middle of the night, to God knows where, to do God knows what… For days, sometimes…

_He couldn’t help but wonder who he was out to hurt… Who was he looking for…? Was he hunting people he didn’t like…? Listening to underground hateful speeches? Talking terrible things and spreading terrible ideas…?_

Elias _hated_ how blasé they acted, like they did nothing wrong, pretending they could just live _normal lives_ when they probably should be in _jail._

If they didn’t age, then they _should_ be locked up forever for what they did, no? Even more reasons to do so if they were _immortal._

They weren’t even fucking human, why were they allowed to wander about and do whatever?!

Who knows what they were up to?!

This was ridiculous!

There was no way humanity couldn't do anything about these… _whatever they were…_

The more he thought about it, the more unfair it felt. The more it grinded his gears. The more it made his blood boil.

If the German government was so different from its past Nazi incarnation, why tolerate those two around? Why aren’t they in jail? Preferably as tied up as possible in solitary confinement or something?

 _‘Maybe those claims of a Fourth Reich aren’t a joke…’_ He thought with bitter disdain.

When Elias finally decides to take a leap of faith and risk himself, it's at a point when he seriously needed a good night of sleep, and then it’s too late to regret it, the papers are already through and then he just had to _wait._

_Wait and see how the state reacts._

He's faintly surprised when police actually show up, and he watches from his partially-closed window as Ludwig Beilschmidt argues with them, and it's just too bad he didn't have binoculars to actually see what's going on…

But he eventually goes along with them, and Elias had to wonder if he thought he was just going to get away with it.

**9PM**

…Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised that with his luck, Gilbert Beilschmidt would come for him after he told some Antifa guys that _‘two avid and actual Nazis’_ were living in this neighborhood…

_Elias was a little drunk and pissed off at the time… He does regret it, it was a stupid move…_

…And honestly, after posting that he was seeking justice, he knew people would _know_ what became of him if he no longer replied ever again.

…He’s okay with becoming a martyr… really… he _is._

…He _wasn’t_ scared. He really, _really_ wasn't… He did his time in the Swiss army, he wasn't a pushover…!

He definitely didn't hide out of pure terror when he heard _him_ knocking on the door and shouting, even when he saw him break his way in through the second-floor balcony, even as he realized how much taller and stronger the older Beilschmidt actually was, even when Elias tried to threaten him into leaving, and then saw how he manhandled him like it was nothing, even when he locked the door, spoke cryptic things on the phone, broke his switchblade with his _teeth…_

Elias still was _not_ as scared, and he had no trouble admitting that what came afterwards was what _truly_ scared him… 

What actually scared him was the direct _threat,_ the feeling of being so painfully close to death, as Gilbert Beilschmidt got closer and the hairs on Elias’ arms stood on end, his whole body tense as the only thing his mind registered was the cold sweat, his own blood rushing cold and freezing him completely.

 **“** If you call me a Nazi… one more _fucking_ time…” Gilbert lifted a finger, wine-red eyes so close and bright, he could see it despite the lack of light. _“I’ll do to you what the Soviets did to me. **”**_

The words registered belatedly when he was alone again, his mind finally clearing enough to remind him to breathe properly, barely sure of what just happened, and he felt _sick,_ like he was going to lose his dinner.

He turned on the light, just to retrieve some sense of security, and waited for his body to calm down. He could barely bring himself to _move._

One thing Elias remembered suddenly, a little late, was the cut on Beilschmidt’s arm when he showed the phone he _stole._ The cut was almost gone, only a soft reddish smear left…

Oh… _Oh. This wasn't good…_

When the police showed up, very politely asking him to come with them to the station, he was still dazed, like his head was filled with cotton.

The officer naturally asked if he’d consumed any drugs recently…

Elias denied the claim quietly, not quite managing to excuse his difficulty acting sober. Yes, he had a can of beer an hour or two ago, and yeah, they noticed that with a sobriety test, but it was nothing crazy enough to warrant this.

…He just didn’t know how to explain himself, and they did end up dragging him…

Elias tried not to struggle, and just let them drag him to a car.

He didn't know what the _fuck_ was happening to his body, and his mind was busy slowly and painstakingly working through Beilschmidt’s words.

_Wait a second… Did… Did Gilbert Beilschmidt just say that his brother shot and killed Adolf Hitler? What the fuck…?_

_…It was just too much to digest at once…_

Elias didn’t know what would happen to him.

He didn’t have his phone, and he couldn’t make any calls. He was taken to the station by the police, and he was hoping to be able to explain the situation to the people there…

But as soon as he arrived, Gilbert Beilschmidt was already there, with a suited stranger next to him, along with his _brother_ in the benches.

_Oh, shit…_

Ludwig Beilschmidt, always so clean-cut, was a little more disheveled. When he saw Elias, his eyes widened, before he immediately turned away.

_What? What's that supposed to mean…?_

Gilbert Beilschmidt had his arms crossed, and turned to him, then gesturing to the stranger. “Alright, Elias, Mintz. Meet our friend, Herr Hendrik Denzel. He works for the BMI.” He spoke quietly and then sat down.

The stranger approached with a small smile and a friendly handshake. “Nice to meet you, Herr Mintz.”

He reacted badly and backed off, before remembering what was happening. He composed himself and shook his hand, hesitantly. “Yes, thank you…” This guy looked too old to be one of _them…_ A guy in his mid-30's definitely didn't fit the descriptions, right? So, he was human…

He backed away awkwardly, unable to repeat the same words in return despite the mild relief.

Denzel nodded and took a small step back as well. “I understand this is a strange situation, Herr Mintz, however, I’m afraid you’ve done something you weren’t supposed to do, so we’ll have to talk for a bit to solve this.” He lifted his hands in appeasement. “I promise you, you’ll not be hurt, and neither will your rights, but…”

“But.” Elias repeated. “'But’ what?” He glanced at the two… what… _Nazis?_

_Why the fuck was German Intelligence here…? To defend them?_

Denzel sighed. “We’ll talk it out at a more private place about some… rather confidential things." He spoke too quietly. "I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, and this is as far as our ‘abuse of authority’ will go. Now, if you’ll follow me…” He gestured behind, out of the station.

 _Oh, no…_ Elias felt a shiver of fear, and he stepped back. _They were going to kill him. Drive him somewhere far away and kill him then bury his body…_

“I– I don’t feel like going anywhere, you can’t make me.”

“I’m sorry, Herr Mintz, but we have to talk.” Denzel gestured again.

Elias looked at the two brothers. Ludwig Beilschmidt wasn’t looking at him, but Gilbert Beilschmidt was tapping his foot, arms still crossed. “Nobody’s going to kill you. We’re just trying to avoid trouble here.”

“I–” _'_ _I don’t believe you.' This was the BMI, the police wouldn’t protect him…_ Go with the shady government agent and possibly be murdered… or…

Elias ran.

He left the station, running down the steps outside, hearing shouting behind. _He had to get the hell out of here. Fuck, he should have just gone home…!_

It’s late, not many people around, and he doesn’t reach the bottom of the stairs before someone grabs him.

 _“Stop making a scene, you fucking idiot…!”_ He’s grabbed in the same difficult position as before, unable to wrestle his way out of this hold.

Elias scowled and opened his mouth to shout for help, but a hand covers his mouth; he tries biting and kicking against his captor.

Except hitting the older Beilschmidt was like hitting an immovable object, and the bite, despite Elias having put intent into it, didn’t even make the man protest or move his hand away.

It barely broke skin.

He knows there are people staring, he hopes someone’s _filming_ this! But he can’t quite see from this position…!

_“Hey, Lutz? We could use that trick of yours.”_

What…?! What trick? He’s pulled back enough to see the younger Beilschmidt and Denzel at the bottom of the stairs. He also sees people staring, and the police officers at the station as well.

Ludwig Beilschmidt frowns in what looked like _annoyance,_ before giving Elias a more pitying look, “I’m sorry…” he breathing in and– “EVERYONE _STOP_ STARING, AND _MOVE. ON!”_

It made Elias freeze for a moment.

The man’s always been soft-spoken, but now his voice echoed across the entire street, deeper and louder than Elias thought possible for him.

The older Beilschmidt still holding him began to drag him off, and Elias watched in horror as people blinked and began walking away, returning to their previous path as if nothing had happened… _“What…?”_

Even the officers who had been staring with concern, about to interfere, suddenly lost interest and walked back inside the station.

 _“Oh, what the fuck…”_ Elias’s eyes widened as terror dawned, and he looked at the one responsible as he was dragged.

Ludwig Beilschmidt, _whatever the fuck he really was,_ walked after him, massaging his temple as if nursing a headache, with Denzel right next to him, saying something quietly.

A car door opened, and Elias was shoved in. He fell on the back seats, and the seats in front were facing him, with two more suited men.

_Oh, no, he was really going to be assassinated… He’d disappear and his family would never hear from him again…!_

Gilbert Beilschmidt leaned into the car, frowning. “Sorry about this, kiddo. You’re going to a nice hotel and you’ll _wait_ there.”

Elias felt his breathing getting out of control, his vision blurring slightly as his blood rushed and gave him a headache. He tried the door handle behind him, but it was locked.

“We’ll talk in the morning once Vash arrives, and then you’ll go back to Switzerland. Just _stop_ giving everyone a hard time, alright?” Gilbert Beilschmidt, this now unknown and terrifying entity, patted the car’s roof and backed away, closing the door.

In the dark, with two more government agents watching him, Elias leaned back on his seat, looking for a way out, but seeing none. The engine turned on, and the car began to move.

Elias gulped and stared back, awkward and terrified out of his mind, unable to demand any answers.

He just waited in silence because there was nothing else he could do.

* * *

**New York City – UN HQ – 11PM**

**Diplomatic Assembly of the United Nations (DAUN)**

This smelled like trouble.

America didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Belgium wasn’t very forthcoming. She danced around it a bit before stating that it was some trouble with a Swiss human who knew of their existence, and that Switzerland left to help Germany deal with his citizen appropriately.

_That was her point, she hissed at Poland._

America smelled trouble… and also BS.

He could guess she didn’t want something to spread, and his thought was confirmed when she pulled France aside, quietly.

America watched them, and left the rest of the EU to their bickering, following the two, hands behind his back.

He briefly turned to England, seeing him watching, then gestured loosely for him to stay _out_ of it.

He’d share if it was important…

England detested America’s steering, but didn’t make a habit of trying to wrestle the lead away from him these days, thankfully. _The old man has had his turn at the wheel already._

France and Belgium barely began talking before they noticed him, and America smiled innocently as he stopped in front of them. “I want to know what’s _actually_ going on.” He told them in English, knowing they'd stick to French anyway.

_Man, he detested it a little… It really wasn’t his best language. He didn't bother accommodating for that sort of thing either way, so it didn't matter._

Belgium crossed her arms, while France tried not to grimace. _“I don’t find that strictly necessary–”_

 _“I-I think this is just pertinent for EU members–”_ Belgium tried to interfere.

“I still want to know.” America began tapping his foot, indicating his impatience to them. “If Ludwig’s in trouble because of a human who _knows,_ then I think it’s not just _about him,_ is it?”

They were all nations, after all. Whatever trouble was caused by a human knowing about them, it was surely pertinent to _all_ of them.

America would eat his shoe the day he found a nation who’s never seriously angered a single human, and therefore, as far as he was concerned, they were all complicit.

_Not that it mattered to him, this was just an excuse to butt in._

The two still hesitated, with France mirroring his neighbor, arms crossing as well.

America sighed, rolling his eyes. “C'mon, I’ll figure it out with or without you. I’m just asking to be polite here.” _Maybe he could help, too…_

Belgium’s lips pressed thin as she glared, her neighbor growling quietly behind gritted teeth. _“I’d appreciate it if you stopped being so invasive.”_

“I’ll stop being 'invasive' when you quit hiding important shit I wanna know about.” America hissed back, getting annoyed. "This is not _just_ about the EU."

For fuck’s sake, it’s _always_ like babysitting children… Why do Europeans fail to cooperate on such global matters is _anyone’s_ guess…

But then again, they’ve always been like this. Shortsighted and self-centered about this sort of thing.

Belgium pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. _“Fine.”_

France just looked resigned as well.

And America smiled in satisfaction. 

She crossed her arms again, glancing away from both of them. _“…One of Zwingli’s humans is attempting to sue Ludwig in a human court of law. That’s all I know…”_ She spoke quietly and shrugged.

America’s brows shot up. He tilted his head and hummed. “Really now…?” That's… _probably_ not a good thing…

France’s eyes narrowed, rather puzzled. He hadn’t been told yet, it seems. _“Over what, exactly…?”_ He asked, sounding tentative and cautious.

 _“The past, obviously.”_ Belgium swatted his arm. _"The war, the… all of… **that…"**_ She stressed the word, grimacing faintly.

France winced, shifting on his feet a bit. _"Ooh, that…"_

 _…This wasn’t good news…_ America didn’t like this, not one damn bit…

Belgium nodded, playing with her hair to ease the awkwardness. _“If others catch wind of_ this _being a viable vector of political pressure, then they may just try to drag their governments into seeking lawsuits against those who hurt them in the past…_ _It's why I preferred not to share everything."_ She gave America a quick, dirty glance.

Which America plainly ignored, nudging his lips as he mused over the idea. “It will just cause further diplomatic friction, I know…” It’s unnecessary antagonism between entities who hold grudges dating back centuries…

But honestly, some of them may just do it for settlement money, if not simply malicious payback.

"Well, I'm sure it won't ever get to court, right?" America added, his posture easing. "You can't sue on the behalf of a group without the group even knowing, so that's a moot point anyway." He’s sure that won’t stick for long if it comes down to it, and the media won't touch it if the government is pulling enough red tape around it.

France hummed. _"But getting our governments to make this illegal under the rug will be such a pain…"_ He sighed, and America felt an equal amount of dread imagining the bureaucracy necessary for it to pass quietly…

The only reason it wasn’t _already_ illegal was because, frankly, they never thought it’d ever actually happen…

 _“Right…”_ Belgium agreed. _“From what I hear, it seems Gilbert had a rare moment of maturity, and decided to just call Zwingli first and keep his government out of it altogether, so, hopefully, they'd solve it before it can turn into a problem for us.”_

At least there’s that… The fewer humans involved, the better…

“They’re not just going to kill the accuser, _right…?”_ America asked with a quiet, pointed tone.

 _“Of course not…!”_ Belgium spat back, before deflating. _“Probably not…”_

“You better fucking _hope_ so.” America muttered, pointing lightly at France. “It seems we’re already in trouble with what _you_ did, huh?” America would guess that conspiracy websites were having a field day at the moment, if this was _anything_ close to France's _'La Terrour'_ days.

_Ha, of course not. There weren't enough perpetrators to get that much blood on the streets._

France slapped his hand away in petulant annoyance. “ _Like you’re one to talk…!”_

America hummed in disapproval of his tone. “At least I didn’t make it so damn obvious.”

 _“Oh, true, you were_ one _of_ many _in a_ war _instead, big difference…!”_

“…I know you’re _upset?_ But if you keep saying shit from that damn _pedestal_ of yours, I’m going to _punch you.”_ He tapped his knuckle against his palm for good measure, and France had the decency to step back and not say whatever he's thinking.

_Probably comparing America to his father, or something._

_“Enooough already…!”_ Belgium groused. _“Now you know what’s happening. Is there anything_ else _you need?”_ She turned to America.

And he stopped to think for a bit, then shook his head. “Nah, I'm good. I’ll ask about the results later, and I’ll let Artie know, too, if you don’t mind.”

France looked like he'd just bitten a lemon, trying to glare at anything else in the room, but Belgium seemed to relax. _“Alright, at least he can keep his mouth shut… Just let him know we’re keeping things quiet.”_

“Of course.” Somewhat-productive conversation done, America nodded in satisfaction and walked away.

He could see that the room was slowly filling up, and he noted that Japan and Canada had arrived…

Well, America would leave that talk with England for a more private setting, later…

For now, they had some issues to talk about with the rest of the nations, and it’s just that _coincidental_ that _this_ would happen this year… It was also convenient, as it was a decent enough springboard to talk about _why_ their current predicament with the humans was an issue…

America already intended to bring this up here anyway.

The DAUN and its associated nations had to be more careful, and thus, they’d have to design a few contingencies to counter what’s an obvious, impending issue.

Their secrecy and security were definitely at risk, and the sooner they sorted out what to do, the better.

He just hoped the rest of the nations would be _reasonable_ about it, instead of trying to use this to score cheap shots at their enemies, or worse, try to play with blackmail against those who were afraid of being found, or sabotage of their attempts to keep their secrets…

Not all nations cared so much about this secrecy, to begin with.

America hated it, but plenty of them acted high-and-mighty about it, like they were so damn _above_ human beings. America didn't think so, but his mentality wasn't like the majority's…

This was probably derived from their past, where they were often treated as deities of sorts… It was less common in Christian Europe and their descendants, and also in the Middle East and Northern Africa due to Islam stamping it out of them too, much like Christianity did to their northern neighbors.

The rest of Africa didn't have any religion so ingrained in them that they forgot their pagan past, and most of Asia was a nonstarter on that matter… Their nations were more elusive entities, but still present.

This was a terrible combination to have nowadays. They needed to cooperate _enough_ overall to maintain this secret at this point, the information web is out of control and it's like everyone just going about their business was the actual problem…

He frowned, watching the room filling up, watching those said nations. _They’d definitely be as unreasonable as possible about this, though._

America still intended to do his job, so no one could say he’s thrown any towels. But damn, he knew these people enough by now, and… Oh, who was he _kidding?_

This was totally hopeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I really think this whole mess from a human POV would look incredibly creepy and shady. This was fun to write, and I hope it was fun enough to read, at least. I won't do this often, honestly.
> 
> Bureaucracy tends be a little slow, so considering the pacing of how Prussia wanted to solve this issue, I doubt it'd even reach a judge.  
> That's not to say it's had no effect, of course. People talk, especially online, especially to family. This whole thing would be a very remarkable and odd event in the online timeline, although a little obscured by what France did… But at this point, every public act witnessed counts a lot more, so it's no surprise.
> 
> I also like the idea that not all nations give a damn about the traditional secrecy. I'm sure a lot of them just go about their business acting however they deem fit, and that they don't care what humans think, since they think of themselves as above all of that. I never liked how everyone always writes this sort of thing as if all nations would have the same concerns about this issue. Humans don't persecute _everything,_ sometimes they just worship it instead and many nations probably had that luxury at some point in their lives.  
> So, the older they are, the less they give a damn, since they're just that used to living without the internet and its extensive-ass record keeping.
> 
> Anyway, I hope this was enjoyable, I hope the pacing is moving the plot along well enough. :) Thanks for the nice comments, they're a joy to read.
> 
> [Hey, I got a Gab account. Twitter sucks.](https://gab.com/Ms_YYK) For random videos I find, funny or serious, memes, excerpts from what book I'm reading, and random thoughts.


	10. Asking You Nicely, So Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter! This chapter was originally all from human POV, but I decided that I wanted to write some Prussia as well. :D

**Berlin**

The door was locked, and he couldn’t leave. A blatant violation of Elias's rights…

But…

Gilbert Beilschmidt wasn’t lying… This _was_ a nice hotel, a 5-star room… It had everything he needed, a bathroom, even a stocked-up minifridge…

Still no phone… The landline to call for room service wasn’t working. He had no choice but to wait…

He drank a little more than his usual intake of liquor and ate all the chocolate he found, as an attempt to calm his nerves. At some point, he was too sleep-deprived and tipsy to feel paranoid. So, he inevitably fell asleep on the too-rich-for-his-blood bed.

**9AM**

He was awakened by a G-man opening the curtains, a stranger in a suit who looked at him like he was faceless, which was, while no worse than nightmares, still a _terrifying_ sight to wake up to…

He was given clothes, and they fit well enough; they were more formal, a dress shirt and trousers, they smelled new and clean.

So it _was really_ a _negotiation… That gave him a little bit of leverage, at least…_

He had no idea what to expect as another suited G-man led him somewhere further into the hotel, and he couldn’t bring himself to be anything but quiet.

A new room, a lounge of sorts, all clean and untouched, with a long table at the center. He’s sat by the edge of the table with _Denzel_ in front of him again before he could even process the sight well enough.

It was all too quick.

Denzel had a folder of files before him; he flipped through them without looking at him… “I wish you hadn’t caused such a ruckus…” The man said. “You’ve just given us extra bureaucracy to deal with. Whatever were you trying to _accomplish_ with this?” The man’s proper tone was soft as he glanced at him.

Elias sat still, tense, his eyes narrowed. “What _are_ they…?”

Denzel didn’t react to his question, and still looked at him passively. “That doesn’t concern you.”

Elias’s lips pressed thin. “The hell it doesn’t… I _know_ what they did.”

“I don’t believe you do.” Denzel didn’t relent. “I understand what you _may_ be thinking. They were once Nazi-officers, and you have Jewish ancestry, therefore, they must have… _‘done_ things’… and you feel entitled to ‘retribution’, is that it? However, _you_ do not understand their circumstances.” He enunciated as if talking to a naughty child.

“…What _‘circumstances’_ excuse someone for becoming a genocidal fascist…?” Elias droned, unamused.

“The circumstances of their _nature.”_ Denzel smiled. “They can’t help being what they are.”

_Huh…?_

The door opens with a loud bang, making Elias jump in his seat.

“Here we are.” Gilbert Beilschmidt announced as he strolled in without a care, reaching the table and placing both hands on the surface. “I hope you’re done acting like a child.” He tilted his head at him.

Elias glared and didn’t respond, and his eye was caught by the younger Beilschmidt, silently passing by behind Denzel like a shadow, head down, and still not looking at Elias.

_Really, what is that…?_

The door closed, and Elias turned to see someone new. The older Beilschmidt stepped back to see as well.

A stranger entered the room, but… Elias _knew_ him, he’s seen a _picture_ once; not too tall, sharp features, blond hair with loose bangs, tied in a small tail, wearing formal clothes, definitely not anyone he's ever met personally… and yet, he looked more familiar than that, like he’s seen him somewhere _else…_

While the Germans made him nervous… _this_ guy… _didn’t…_

_Who…?_

The man approached with a scowl, and his brows eased when glancing at Elias. “You, young man. Were they rough with you?” His voice was mature, but sharp and light.

Elias blinked. This guy didn’t creep him out as much as the other two… “Uhm… A little…”

‘A little’, what an understatement, emotionally speaking…

The man’s eyes narrowed, “Really…” and he glanced at the white-gold-haired German, who’d sat down on the chair, aimed crookedly at Elias, and next to Denzel.

He looked paler under daylight coming through the windows… “The brat struggled too much and didn’t listen. We just did what was necessary.”

Sighing, the stranger turned to him again. “My name is Vash Zwingli. I’m responsible for dealing with _this sort_ of incident involving Swiss citizens and ‘our kind’ on behalf of the Swiss government.” He offered a hand to shake.

Ah… So this was ‘Vash’… And he’s one of _them…_ but not quite…? Not… as threatening. Or at least, on _his_ side…

He’s Swiss too…

When Elias did, hesitantly, shake his hand, it felt… so _odd…_ And he couldn’t describe it…

It was definitely _familiar._ Or better, it felt a little like… homesickness…? It was the only way he could properly describe it…

“Whatever you wish to discuss, you are at liberty to do so.” Mr. Zwingli said, pulling up a chair to sit. “No one will hurt you while I’m here, I _will_ make sure of it.” He lightly pulled out a _pistol_ he had inside his suit, before hiding it again. “You have my word.” He crossed his legs, ankle over his knee.

No one else in the room reacted further as Elias looked around… He just couldn’t help but believe this sounded so… utterly _honest_.

“What… are you saying, exactly?” Elias narrowed his eyes.

He felt stupid asking, but Mr. Zwingli seemingly understood exactly what he meant. “There’s something you wish to settle. That’s fine, I’m allowing you to, even though it’s not in your purview as a _human being._ Go ahead and try.” He still looked into his eyes as he gestured to Denzel.

Elias saw the older Beilschmidt rolling his wine-red eyes. _Or was it ruby-colored…? How are their eyes so bright…? Mr. Zwingli’s were a deep sea-green, and actually comforting to look at…_

_Suddenly, he really feels out of his depth here…_

Denzel then cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s start.”

* * *

This was by far the most _humanitarian_ response Prussia could think of on such short notice…

He knew that getting rid of another nation’s human would only end in trouble, especially for him…

Letting the kid air out his grievances, and then letting Switzerland sort him out afterward was probably their best bet here…

Thus, here they are, in a mock-trial in a hotel's lounge room.

Prussia didn’t mind letting the kid think this would end in his favor, so long as he understood _why_ this was senseless once it was explained to him…

No need to explain _everything,_ of course, but as a public official who’s read plenty about nation laws and rights, Mr. Denzel was probably capable of dancing around the whole issue while using layman’s terms for everything crucially complicated…

“First, what was the lawsuit about?” Denzel asked, rhetorically it seems, because he himself answered. “Right, you have accused both Ludwig Beilschmidt and Gilbert Beilschmidt of ‘heinous hate crimes’ against the Jewish community, and filed a lawsuit against two ‘active fascists’ within the German political system, seemingly on said community’s behalf.”

Yeah, Denzel was probably competent… Prussia would do his best to remain quiet and let the man do his thing…

“Is it _wrong?”_

The gall of this brat…

Denzel seemed to think for a second, then nodded. “Yes, technically speaking. Neither of them identifies as ‘fascist’ or part of the Nazi Party anymore; those ties were officially and legally cut in 1945 for,” He gestured to Germany “Ludwig Beilschmidt, and,” He turned to gesture to Prussia. “technically 1944 for Gilbert Beilschmidt, due to… Soviet custody. They’re not fascists in any legal, or ideological sense for that matter, and that accusation simply doesn’t apply…” Denzel explained succinctly.

The brat, Mintz’s narrowed his eyes, almost in disbelief. “…Are you their lawyer…?”

“In a way, yes.” Denzel intertwined his fingers over the file packet.

Mintz turned to Switzerland again, and the nation sighed. “If anything is a lie, I’ll tell you.”

Of course he would… It’s only natural that he’d side with his citizen if he could afford to. Prussia rolled his eyes.

“Right. Moving on.” Denzel continued right away. “The next accusation is… ‘heinous hate crimes against the Jewish community’… Neither of these two was ever a guard in any of the camps, they were soldiers. And not just simple soldiers, but special _assets_ of the state since they were born, who never had a _choice_ on whether they were part of the Nazi Party or not, may I add. They’re tied to the state, no matter the party that controls it. They cannot be credited for the existence of concentration camps, much less the policies that led to that, as their permission, _or_ approval, was never required for such. They were obeying orders like everyone else, so therefore, ‘Guilt by Association’ would have to be your accusation, which _also_ no longer applies, nor it should.”

Yup, competent. Prussia held back a smirk and leaned back on his seat, crossing his legs.

He knew his little brother was listening, but he still slowly paced near the window, further away from their table, not really looking at them.

Mintz blinked, thinking it over. “But… that doesn’t change the fact that everyone _involved_ was prosecuted and judged, no? How do they–”

“Yes, but they already had a trial.”

“Huh?”

Switzerland nodded. “It was just amongst us, of our kind. It was accepted as a valid trial. Both were deemed guilty and a verdict was passed in 1946.”

Prussia scoffed. “You weren’t even fucking present…”

“Because I didn’t have to be. What happened to you two was none of my business after the war ended.”

“…What a _wonderful_ brother you are…”

The tone was humorous, and Mintz’s eyes widened, but Switzerland seemingly took it seriously, turning to glare at Prussia.

“Wouldn’t have stopped the two of you.”

Prussia’s head lulled away from them with a disgruntled hum.

Poor Denzel was fidgeting a bit, clearly feeling the extra tension between the nations in the room, then he cleared his throat once again. “I believe these are all the accusations?”

Mintz stared in disbelief. “W-Wait, so you’re trying to tell me they’re just _innocent_ now?”

Prussia just took a second to look at Germany, but his little brother didn’t deign to face them, although he shook his head lightly. _Still thinking he’s guilty…_

Denzel winced, although it looked rather theatrical. “’Innocent’ per se, no, no one _treated_ it that way. As stated, a verdict was given, and they’ve _already_ been punished. It’d be unfair to add to _already_ _given_ punishment, especially since you were born long after it.”

Clearly, the brat wasn’t expecting that. “What ‘punishment’…?!”

Maybe he was actually expecting mustache-twirling villains who got away with their crimes…

Denzel reacted coolly to the questions so far, like he expected all of them. Germany better recommend him for a goddamn promotion after this…

He gestured to Prussia. “On Gilbert Beilschmidt’s case, 45 years, from 1944 to 1989, under, essentially, Soviet enslavement on the other side of the Berlin Wall, as well as all the abusive physical and psychological hardships that _it_ entailed.” Then he gestured to Germany. “On Ludwig’s Beilschmidt’s case, in 1945 there was a… rather severe _physical_ punishment as Allied forces overran Berlin,”

It’s probable that no one other than Denzel himself missed how Germany suppressed an obvious wince of discomfort, although Prussia couldn’t help but fidget, almost wincing in sympathy…

He knew damn well what was like to go against Russia at that point… _Not to mention America joining in too._

“then once the war was over, one year in and out of Allied-issued jail during trials and negotiations between the USSR and the Allies, and then, from 1947 to today and onward, work for the German government with no holidays, no weekends off, or vacation; expenses managed entirely _by_ the state, not allowed _any_ expenditures without permission, and _not_ at liberty to do, well… _anything political or military_ without the expressed permission of the German government; not to mention, a mandatory psychiatric evaluation every month, which is handled by the EU.”

 _That…_ That was something Prussia hated…

He _hated_ that they all constantly treated his brother like he had some kind of inert monster sleeping inside…

It was really no wonder his little brother couldn’t even trust himself…

Sometimes he wondered if the shrink was actually enforcing this, and making things worse…

And _this brat_ doesn’t know anything, doesn’t understand _anything…_

Mintz’s shoulders slacked as the words sank in. “Huh… So, they… they _were_ punished already…?” He turned to his nation for a smidgeon of confirmation…

Switzerland had his arms crossed, and only lifted a hand, a resigned gestured.

Prussia’s eyes narrowed lightly, gaze downcast. “Doesn’t sound as bad as it was when you lay it down nice and simple like that…”

It's all much worse in person, both back then and now…

Switzerland rolled his eyes. “You brought it on yourselves.” That granted him a glare, but no further response. Prussia wouldn’t respond today…

Mintz just stared at Denzel, watching him closely, then at Prussia and Germany, neither who looked at him straight…

Then at Switzerland, who tilted his head at him, eyebrow lifting slightly, as if asking if he’s _done_ … and the nation frowns. “Something wrong?”

“No…” Mintz gulped. “I’m fine.”

Switzerland’s eyes narrowed, and maybe he didn’t quite believe him.

Germany had approached just enough to lean his back on the wall behind Denzel, still fiddling with his hand, a nervous tick.

Denzel nodded with a bigger smile, a reasonable reaction since he had all the cards. “Well, then, if that’s all the accusations, I believe we can–”

“Actually…” Mintz interrupted. “There’s another thing…” He turned to Germany, and pointed loosely at his direction, watching him closely. “My… My grandmother _met_ you, once… In a concentration camp…” He droned the last words under his breath.

His brother’s stark sky-blue eyes widened. Silence in the room.

“Uhm…” Denzel shifted in his seat. “How can you be sure it was him?”

Prussia could almost see the annoyed _‘Lawyers…’_ running through the kid’s mind.

“I showed her a picture.” Mintz still watched his brother, who, for the first time, didn’t actually break eye-contact.

Prussia hated to see him this petrified… his brows tilted up in a tense expression; he was stock-still.

“Well, at her age, I’m assuming, your grandmother could be seeing _any_ picture and seeing the same person.” Denzel attempted to amend.

Mintz gestured to Prussia without looking away. “She was specific. It’s on my phone. I’ll show you the picture.”

And Prussia narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

_What was he up to…? He didn’t want to give him a recording device…!_

Switzerland sighed impatiently and turned to him, and Germany spoke quietly. “Gilbert, don’t be difficult… Just hand it over…”

The Prussia still looked cautious, but dug in his pocket, before retrieving Mintz’s phone, _which he stole, yes, but it was for a good reason, dammit._

He stood and placed it on the table with finality, giving Mintz another vigilant look, and then stepping back to sit down again.

Mintz had the _gall_ to smirk in triumph as he snatched it, _what a brat,_ quickly turning the device on again, then unlocking the screen, keeping its lock-pattern out of their sight, _although Prussia could guess a few possibilities, even from this angle…_

He found the picture within the minute, which he showed to Denzel.

And Denzel lifted an eyebrow, while Germany walked closer to see, hesitating, almost as if afraid to check… then winced and looked away as if the sight made him uncomfortable…

Prussia also leaned aside to see, before sighing in resignation. _Goddamn it… those old pictures…_

 _How in the fuck did they end up online? Did someone leak them?_ Prussia would have to try and look into it…

Mintz pulled the device back and continued before Denzel could come up with something. “She told me herself, that _he_ showed up there, that she approached expecting him to _save_ her,” Prussia sees live how, upon hearing this, his brother’s face smoothly shifted to display something akin to fright, and he stepped back. “and that… _he_ degraded her verbally and aggrieved her physically in response.”

Germany stepped back further. “…I-I…’m sorry, I don’t remember that…”

Mintz scowled and sat back, holding his phone close. “Of course you don’t…”

He was trying to really _hurt_ his brother… No matter the reason, Prussia hated it, and he hated to give them brat any _edge_ for it… How dare he bring this up, without understanding what was even happening in his brother's head at the time…?

He stood. “Alright, you can give that back now.”

Mintz pulled back. “No, I don’t have to. It’s _my_ propriety…!”

“You think I’m fucking stupid?” Prussia gestured sharply at it, under Mintz’s hand, aimed at the ceiling. It could be recording for all he knew. “I don’t trust you with that thing; hand it over.” He approached further.

Which is when Switzerland stood. “Back off.” He warned quietly, hand inside his suit, seemingly ready to pull out that gun.

Mintz watched them, wide-eyed.

Prussia only glared in return. “Vash… Stop being _unreasonable.”_

"I _said_ ‘back off’.”

And the two were in a bit of an impasse.

The two humans in the room sat very still, watching the two closely as humans tend to do when in a room with angry nations, and one could see a sliver of sweat forming.

It was like only the two of them _felt_ the danger, and Mintz no doubt could see, _if he had any brains,_ that it only affected _them_ , while his brother massaged his forehead, shaking his head, seemingly unperturbed overall, just annoyed. “Brother, _please.”_

That cuts the tension in the room, and Prussia backs off. “Fine.” He spat, crossing his arms and sitting again. “But whatever happens with _that_ thing,” He pointed to the phone. _“you’re_ responsible.” He then pointed at Switzerland.

“I’m just _fine_ with that, _thank_ _you_.” Switzerland hissed, still tense, hand still in his suit.

There was a brief moment of tension, before Prussia sat first, conceding. _Dammit…_

* * *

…It felt just like at the house…

A _cold_ _dread_ sinking its claws deep in his body, it made him want to run, but also froze him still, like the slightest movement would attract the attention of something dangerous…

A big cat in the grass, ready to pounce the moment he so much as flinched.

 _They’re_ _not fucking **human.**_

_None of them are…!_

Just like at the house, suddenly he felt so painfully _aware_ of this fact… Like every cell of his body was _keenly_ aware of that.

But…

 _Why_ would his body know, if it hadn’t _evolved_ to know…? There’s no way this was literally _supernatural_ …

O-Or was it…? He wasn’t particularly religious, despite his heritage, but…

That thought quickly made the dreadful fear rescind when he glanced at Zwingli again, who sat down and was now staring pretty intensely at the other German.

_…Brothers, huh…?_

It left a sour taste in his mouth as his body calmed down again.

_Something in his brain seemed acutely mindful of the fact that they were dangerous, but Zwingli simply seemed like…_

_Not the real threat… But actually, maybe, his only source of safety here…_

_Oh, how did he even come to that conclusion…?_

_…_

* * *

Denzel cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. It seemed like he felt everything Mintz felt too. “Well… I’m… _very_ sorry to hear about your grandmother, Herr Mintz… Truly. However, if you wish to sue on behalf of your relative, I’m going to have to excuse Herr Ludwig Beilschmidt’s actions and plead _insanity_ on his behalf.”

 _Oh, this guy…_ Prussia almost wanted to laugh. He couldn’t believe they were actually going _there_ …

Mintz blinked, startled out of his tension entirely. “Wait, _what…?!”_ He grimaced in disbelief. “A… Are you joking…?”

None of the nations in the room reacted oddly to the claim, that should be enough of a hint to the human, with Germany most of all nursing what looked like a pretty awful headache.

Stress always gives him headaches…

“Well… It _is_ a factual reasoning.” Denzel patted the folder. “The type of _being_ that they are. To make it simple, when they’re born, they tend to imprint on a specific group of humans, with whom they develop a _very_ reciprocal system of sympathy and empathy… If they are happy, it’s _because_ the group is overall happy.” He explained carefully. “In this case for Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt, it’s the German people, and for Herr Zwingli, that’d be the Swiss people.”

Mintz’s eyes widened at the _new_ piece of information, and he didn’t interrupt, his grip around his phone on the table tightened.

Prussia still watched that thing, not trusting the human brat at all.

“The group can be a whole country, or a village, it doesn’t matter… The _point_ is, we know today that there are certain _ideologies_ that can sweep over the group’s collective mindset and negatively affect _their_ kind through this bond.”

_That was one simple way to describe it… When it started to enter the metaphysical territory of being the spirit of the country in human body… then skepticism wasn’t manageable, especially to the secular-raised humans of modernity…_

_It was a lot easier to talk about this when humans were more religious, honestly…_

Denzel continued. _“…Fascism,_ or in this case, _Nazism,_ has shown itself to be… _particularly_ unpleasant to their long-term mental health.”

The kid quickly glanced at Switzerland, who naturally didn’t show any sign that this was news.

“And so, because they react to external ideologies influencing their mind _against_ _their_ _will_ by developing certain symptoms that make them _unreasonable,_ well, when it comes to _human_ courts of law, a plea of insanity applies, since Ludwig Beilschmidt was _factually_ not in full control of his own mind at the time.” Denzel explained directly. 

Prussia couldn’t hold back tiny smirk in his amusement, which Mintz no doubt saw.

_The condition itself was no joke, of course… His brother was trying hard not to think about it, Prussia could see that… He didn’t like remembering those days of ideologically imposed madness…_

_But a quick rug pull from under the brat’s feet was a funny sight… It's just as he deserved._

_Because now he knew, and had to accept it, whether he liked it or not, that his brother wasn't in a reasonable state of mind at the time. Neither of them was, honestly, but Germany was particularly affected…_

_It was difficult to watch as it happened, back then…_

“…You’ve _got_ to be kidding me…?” Mintz asked in sheer disbelief.

Denzel seemed to be suppressing a smile, and he flipped through the folder for a marked page, _as if he was ready for this exact defense. Smart man…_ “Some of the immediate symptoms seem to be paranoia, delusions of grandeur, obsessive thinking, manic behavior, volatile temper… as well as a stronger inability to sympathize or empathize with the humans in the imprinted group, and unreasonable aggression towards an ideologically defined outgroup, easily leading to violent acts, which is then exacerbated by the fact that for _their_ kind, with _their_ physical capacities, hurting or even killing _fragile_ humans is relatively easy… It’s generally not a stable state of mind, and it quickly leads to what can only be classified as a form of madness or lunacy.”

Mintz stared for a few seconds, eyes narrowing. It was uncertain whether he believed this or not, and Switzerland seemed to be on the edge of taking a nap, arms crossed and eyes closed.

_Except they knew damn well how sharp the nation’s reactions were, and how deceivingly quick to defend he could be while idle._

Then, Mintz exhaled, leaning back on his seat. “I’m… not actually _allowed_ to do this, _am_ I…?!” He smirked faintly in resignation. “You’re just _indulging_ me…” He glanced at Switzerland as well.

The Swiss nation glanced at him with one eye, the corner of his lips taut, just a small sight of acquiescence.

Denzel’s eyes darted to Prussia for a moment, then turned back to the kid again. “We are merely discouraging you from pursuing a reckless endeavor, young man.”

“…Reckless.” Mintz droned in return. “How so…?”

Prussia clicked his tongue. “…For God’s sake…” He muttered from his seat. “You don’t know shit about _anything_ that we do, and you _still_ wanted to mess with us. _That’s_ reckless.” He gestured vaguely at him. “You were just inviting the German government to fight you in court and out of the public eye; then you’d probably end up in some _real_ trouble.”

They’d drag this on until the kid's money ran dry or he quit. Simple as that.

Mintz leaned away from the man, scowling. “Huh? Is that a threat?”

“It’s not a 'threat', dipshit.”

“Oh, yeah? Why would _I_ get into trouble…?! I did nothing wrong!”

“You just don’t _know_ what the fuck–”

“…Gilbert!” His younger brother interrupted. “Enough already…!”

“Oh, my bad, I just don’t have the _patience_ to deal with clueless humans for this long…!”

“This was _your_ idea, remember…?!”

“Yeah, I _thought_ this was a simple enough concept to understand…!”

“How is this simple…?!”

“It fuckin’ is!” Prussia stood. _“None_ of that shit was your fault! No one can just _demand_ that from you–”

“We already _talked_ about this!”

Switzerland’s foot tapped the floor impatiently as the argument progressed, scowl deepening, until he _finally_ stood. “Enough already! I’m not being paid to listen to you two bickering!”

Germany made a very uncharacteristic noise of _frustration_ and then straight up _left_ the room, door closing harshly after him.

“…Brat!” Prussia huffed and turned at the utterly frozen-stiff Mintz with a glare. “Are you done, then?”

Mintz stared. “A-Am I _done?”_ It was such an offended tone…!

“Yes! Are you?” Prussia gestured loosely around them.

Denzel took this moment to pipe in, although rather meekly. “We wish to avoid any further issues by asking you very nicely to–”

Prussia scowled and approached. “To _drop_ _it.”_ He finished it. “And we’ve been asking very nicely until now.”

Mintz scowled back with shallow breathing, leaning further into his seat, hands gripping it as if readying to move. “A-After all of that, why am I here if you didn’t intend to negotiate anything…?!”

“Negotiate _what?_ You’re here to _understand,_ so you’ll drop this on your own accord and stop being a nuisance.” Prussia hissed, losing his patience at having to explain this _again._

“Negot–” Mintz stopped and shook his head. “How about a goddamn _apology,_ at the very least…?!” He hissed bitterly.

Prussia’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Neither of us hurt _you…”_ He stood straight and pointed. “I’m not apologizing for something _I_ didn’t _personally_ do, and neither is my brat of a brother.” He swiped his hand as a gesture of denial.

Oh, Germany _would,_ but Prussia would rather tackle him if needed to interfere.

Mintz's resolve seemed to crumble a bit, but he held on, admirably so… Still glaring defiantly. "You expect me to believe you never had a damn problem with people like me…?!"

 _This shit again…_ "You don't know anything about me!" Prussia raised his voice, enunciating each word. "I haven't had a problem with you Jewish lot since the last fuckin' _Crusade,_ alright?!" Oh, he's _had_ his share of problems with 'Jesus's killers', _back then._ "I'm just _over_ religious wars, so fuck off with that reasoning, it's shit…!"

The resolve crumbled further… "So you _had…"_

Prussia cut him off, gesturing theatrically to Denzel. "I defer back to the _previous_ plea. Lucky for _you,_ individualist mindset is kind of the norm, and _therefore,_ I no longer _care_ about religious heritage, same as: my brother is no longer ideologically _possessed._ Case fucking closed."

The brat would _not_ take all the blame, no matter how much the humans wanted to saddle him with it. Germany was too young and he couldn’t handle it, so it was probably up to Prussia to protect him from it, however he could…

Before the human brat could say anything else, _and he tried, almost standing up,_ Prussia spoke first, as an amendment. “Now if you wanna bring your grandmother to get that apology from him, then do _that,_ and my brother will fucking _grovel_ if needed, but if you’re not a _direct victim_ who we _personally_ hurt, you can fuck _right_ off, you hear?”

Finally, that gave the human some _pause…_

And that’s when Switzerland lifted his hands and stood. “Alright, I’m done with the drama…” He pointed to Mintz. “You’re done, and we’re leaving.”

“What…?!” Mintz turned to him.

“There’s nothing else to say here, you’ve covered everything you _could_ reasonably cover, and I’m a busy man. If you want to push your luck, I’ll leave you alone with him.” Switzerland gestured vaguely at Prussia.

_Implying that it wasn’t safe to leave him alone with another nation._

Prussia scoffed and sat on the table. “Exactly… We’re striking that lawsuit off the record, and we better not hear a _peep_ about it.” He lifted a finger to his lips, gritted teeth in annoyance.

“W-Wait a second…!” This was just sheer stubbornness, but the Swiss nation was right, there was nothing else to discuss, and the human no longer had any formal venue to complain in.

Switzerland turned and walked towards the door. “I came to keep you safe, just in case, but I’m not your parent, my patience only lasts so long. Now choose.” He gripped the handle and turned to the human.

Prussia lifted an eyebrow, lifting one knee further over the table. “A few centuries ago, nosy people like you were killed on the damn spot… Be a little grateful and run along now.”

Mintz turned back and forth once, before his posture deflated, and he walked dejectedly after his nation, watching Prussia with no small amount of careful distrust.

Prussia took it head-on, smug and without a care, while Denzel just smiled awkwardly and waved just as sheepishly.

Switzerland sighed and left the room, his citizen right after him after another mildly scornful glance at Prussia.

Left in silence, Prussia leaned back, hands on the table. “Well. That was a thing… You think the brat will blab around online…?”

Denzel cleared his throat. “I suppose we can’t stop him if he does, short of arresting him… In any case… you all still have your UN-given rights, right…?”

Nice way of saying their odds were abysmal by now…

Prussia spat a small laugh and stood, “Yeah, yeah, Article 17, ‘no nation shall be persecuted for their nature’…” he muttered, crossing his arms as he approached the window. “Who the fuck’s gonna respect that…?”

_If human rights were barely respected in some places out there… What chance did nations have?_

“Although,” Prussia smirked bitterly and turned back, hands in his pockets. “to be fair, I _can_ take a beating, emotional or otherwise, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

It'd suck if he had to be the ‘Nazi Scapegoat’ again.

But if needed to save his brother’s skin, he'll do it, without complaints, _again._

* * *

 **3.1K (UPDATE) That lawsuit didn’t go according to plan** (self.GaiaIsReal)  
submitted 1 day ago * by goatattack  
 **  
**

Well. It seems I headbutted the system, but it just ate me and spat me back out like leftover meat.

I’m probably not allowed to write this, but it’s become evident that while they’re not exactly ready to deal with this sort of thing, they still can do so without the government getting involved… I seriously doubt this was a formal, legal procedure, and in hindsight, it did look like they didn’t want the government involved at all. No memory wipe (prob doesn’t exist) or threats. Or at least, no verbal threats to me or my family or my safety (well kinda, but give me a sec)… Now that I think about it, it feels more like I was sat down to be scolded, and I was told more or less why I was being scolded, and why what I was doing was wrong and stupid, and why I had to drop it ‘before I got into trouble’, which I would with the actual government if I continued to pursue this… So maybe there is a procedure when the gov gets involved, I just didn’t get to it… I wasn’t allowed anywhere near a courtroom or a judge. I barely even looked at the police. Although, I did get to see officers trying to arrest Ludwig B., and they ended up more or less cowering while he mostly sheepishly shying away and it didn’t escalate from there. It was all very quiet…

Somehow, Gilbert B. figure it out it was me, and on the same day the police showed up, the guy was already at my door just a few hours later, so maybe I wasn’t discreet enough from the start (although I genuinely don’t see what I was doing that aroused so much suspicion, and at this point, I’m no longer sure my heritage has anything to do with it…).

To be brief, Gilbert B. practically broke into my house to scold me. I pretended not to be home, but it didn’t fool him, somehow. It seems he’s the older one, and he sure treated me like a child. I had a switchblade, and some basic military training, but I didn’t stand a chance in a fight. It wasn’t even funny, it was just sad, he wasn’t even trying and I wasn’t even hurt. It wasn’t like struggling against any normal person, it felt more like pushing against a wall, like I was just a kid trying to fight an adult, totally pointless. I did nick his arm with the switchblade (before he took it and broke it with his gdamn teeth like it was plastic), but that wound was gone by the time he dragged me downstairs. So I guess they can just ‘heal’. Like I said, fighting was a sad attempt on my part… He’s the one who got the police involved and I got dragged to the police station. I couldn’t even explain to them beforehand that this guy broke into my house, my head was in space at the time, and I’ll try to explain why… This is just so difficult to put into words…

There was Ludwig B. at the station, and this shady Gman called ‘Denzel’ too. They wanted me to go with them somewhere, and I freaked out and ran, which was stupid, I know… But in my defense, it did feel like they were about to make me disappear. The thing that happened outside the station was… not something I can explain properly, nto in any awy that makes sense… My hands shake a bit just remembering that whole event.

Beucase there’s me, outside a police station, with Gilbert B. wrestling me into submission because I wasn’t supposed to make a scene, and a bunch of people staring, then Ludwig B. tells the whole street to move on, very loudly, and they just DO. It was like a horror movie. Like it flipped a switch, and suddenly they forgot about someone being kidanapped in public and went on with their lives like drones, and I was tossed into a big government car, and I’m told I’m waiting at a hotel until morning. Which I did, until morning, in a very nice hotel room… Because the door was locked, no phone access, no way out, other than the window and death.

I think there is some kind of ‘mind manipulation’ involved. I can’t explain it with science, I might as well assume it was literally supernatural. Before I was even taken from my house by the police, I had a small altercation with Gilbert B. He got a little angry that I kept calling him nazi… I can’t explain why, but my brain turned to mush for a moment when I noticed I was pissing him off too badly, and he essentially told me he’d hurt me if I kept saying it. ‘I’ll do to you what the Soviets did to me’. Whatever mind effect it had, I was a little braindead by the time the police showed up, which is why they probably thought I was drugged… I wasn’t.

The ‘negotiation’ tho. It was a bit like arguing with a lawyer. I had no lawyer, ofc, so I had to argue on my own behalf. Denzel, the Gman I met at the station, was playing the part, he seemed to know exactly who they are and what they’re doing, and he batted all of my accusations away with lawyer-like precision, which was annoying as hell. Although, they did behave like I was just in on the secret now, and while explaining ‘why I was wrong’, Denzel straight up admitted that they’re just immortal and lived that long… I asked what they are, (before, when it was just us in the room), and a bit of it was explained later, but this man told me it wasn’t really something I needed to know in detail.

Let me mention first, that besides the two Germans and the lawyer, there was someone else too. The Swiss Gaian, who goes by the name of Vash. He was very explicit with the fact that he was there to keep me safe; he was also armed, and it was exactly because I’m a Swiss citizen, and that I was only permitted to do this because he was allowing me to, with the marginal permission of the other two. If none of them wanted to let me do this, I wouldn’t have been able to even get to this point… I’m unsure what would have happened to me if Vash didn’t actually care enough about my safety to show up (or whether or not he even really did, I feel like he kinda did, tho, he did seem upset that I was a bit mistreated so far)…

Although Vash wasn’t arguing on my behalf, he sat next to me as a body-guard, and occasionally confirmed the claims made by the Germans if needed. He stayed and didn’t let Gilbert B. get close to me again, the two had a bit of a spat over my phone, and I got to keep it because Vash told them to let me. Gilbert B. told him that if there was any recording of the meeting by phone leaked online, then HE was the one who’d be held responsible. Which is why I admittedly hesitated so much to hit the record app that I ended up missing the chance (I couldn’t touch my phone again without arousing too much suspicion, there were four people in the room with me and I had no reason to mess with it again…). I wonder now if it was just some kind of mind trick that made me not want to get Vash into trouble, or if I just felt bad that Vash accepted the responsibility as if he was trusting I wouldn’t do it, or if he just didn’t care…

So, that’s when Denzel got to the issue… The accusations.

  1. Active fascists accusation: Denzel told me that those two’s affiliation to the nazi party were legally and formally cut in 1944 and 1945, for Gilbert B. and Ludwig B. respectively. The way it was said, it indicated that one was captured by the Soviets (prob Eastern Front?) in 44, while the other was, apparently, beaten into submission during the siege of Berlin by Allied forces in 45, and thrown in jail (I’m just assuming other Gaians were involved, because who else could beat them…), where he stayed in and out of for a year before he was actually judged in a trial (by their own kind) with his brother… Which made that whole complaint meaningless, essentially.  
  

  2. Holocaust crimes: I was told neither of them were ever participants or aids in the process that created or maintained concentration camps. They were both ‘soldiers, never guards’. That made me ask about complicity, because it was clear they knew about the camps, but my claim was denied as the lawyer said they were ‘assets of the state’, independently of which group or party is in charge of the state, and never had a choice on the matter of being part of the party to begin with…  
  

  3. I insisted on Ludwig B.’s complicity: Denzel LITERALLY pled insanity on his behalf. That fact that it got to this point is what led to the vague explanation of what they’re supposed to be. I didn’t get any names for ‘their kind’, as Denzel himself called them by, but I got something anyway. According to him, the plea of insanity applies by their ‘nature’ alone. As I’d asked before they arrived, he said I didn’t understand their circumstances, which is why what I was doing was wrong. I asked what circumstances excuse someone for becoming a ‘genocidal fascist’, and he said something like ‘the circumstances of their nature’, and ‘they can’t help being what they are’.  
What he told was… interesting, to say the least.  
According to him, when one of them is born (no mention as to where and how), they tend to get attached to a group of humans, with whom they form a sort of bond, ‘sympathetic and empathetic’, he said. When this group of humans is happy, the Gaian is happy in direct response. He made it sound like they didn’t have a choice, as he said that when an ideology takes over the group’s collective mindset, it can have adverse effects and show certain symptoms, and he made a point of saying that fascism and Nazism had specific and very negative effects that led to a form of unreasonable disagreeableness that easily led to violence, and that it could be classified as a form of insanity in a court of law, because it is, allegedly, ‘against their will’… So, since Vash didn’t disagree, I had no leg to stand on in this matter (slimy lawyer seemed to be ready for this exact situation…).  
  

  4. Punishments: I was under the impression that they weren’t punished at all… It seems I was very wrong, and I’m not sure how I feel about it, but there it was. According to the lawyer, Gilbert B. was essentially ‘enslaved’ by the soviets (by their Gaian, I assume?) for 45 years, on the other side of the Berlin Wall, and he made it sound like it was hell for him. Maybe it was. And while Ludwig B. seems to have stayed on the western half, it sounded like he was (is?) under some sort of indentured servitude to the German state, in which he’s got no worker’s rights nor is he allowed to do basically anything without the state’s expressed permission, and is psychologically evaluated every month by the EU and the UN… Which seems admittedly miserable…



I had nothing else to throw, all accusations were reasonably denied, and I had no good enough information that do anything about it. Honestly, it felt more like they were indulging me. For them, I guess I’m just a nosy, loud brat. There was a brief argument between the two brothers, which made the younger one leave the room altogether, and it led to me arguing a bit with the older brother. I guess Gilbert B. doesn’t think his little brother should be blamed for anything, and it sounded like they argued about this before (it made the last few months of seeing them as emotionless villains a little silly…), and he said to my face that he wouldn’t apologize to someone who wasn’t a ‘direct victim’ and that he wouldn’t let Ludwig B. do that either.

The thing is this: Ludwig B. is the one who looked most uncomfortable throughout this whole thing, and while I can’t say for sure, maybe it was actually ‘guilt’ that I was seeing in him the whole time… I don’t know, maybe he does feel guilty about it, although part of me doesn’t want to accept that sort of excuse, but then another says I have to remember that he was already literally punished, along with his brother, so like the lawyer said, there’s no reason to add to already given punishment…? Especially since I wasn’t directly impacted? Gilbert B. made it sound like if I brought my grandmother directly, Ludwig B. would definitely apologize and even grovel if needed, so maybe he does feel enough guilt.

I'm still pissed off. I don't feel like there was any forgiveness in me, because they were still complicit, they met important people as they carried out a genocide and did nothing, and honestly, I guess I'm happy they were at least punished, and that the EU keeps an eye on them, and that they don't really seem to hold any love for the Nazi party and its leader… even if I got no apologies for it.

That was basically that, I suppose. Vash kinda got tired of essentially babysitting me (and he sure made it sound like that’s really what was happening there), and told me that he was leaving, and that I should follow, but he also told me I could stay and keep testing Gilbert B.’s patience if I wanted, but I admit my emotional memories of what happened last time (the whole braindead fear that overtook me last time) made me leave.

Vash told me we'd go to my house, pack my things, and go back to Switzerland as soon as possible. I really felt like a scolded child, and I couldn’t help but ask how old he actually was to treat me this way, while I was still following him out of the hotel (Vash looked a little calmer once away from the other two and I think they did argue once about being brothers, which surprised me, the three of them are actually all related, and it seems they’ve known each other long enough to not enjoy each other’s company a lot…). I’m surprised he actually answered, tho. He said he wasn’t all that sure, but that he was born around the time the Romans conquered the alpine region, around 100 BC…! Which was fucking crazy, and I can’t say I wrapped my head around it entirely… Then I couldn’t help but ask how old those other two are, and again, I’m surprised he indulged me further (like I said, he was a lot less tense once out of the hotel).

As far as he knows, Gilbert B. was born during the 1st Crusade, and he was “the most irritating Teutonic Knight in the world” as a literal child… That’d be around 1100 AC, if I’m not mistaken (and he did mention he's hadn't had a problem with Jews since then while we argued…). And Ludwig B., he was born around the mid 1800’s, a little after the German Unification, which is why he’s the youngest, and “very much a brat who doesn’t really know any better” in their eyes. Maybe this is why Gilbert B. seemed so adamant about not blaming him… Maybe he really does see him as just a kid.

That leads me to a small detail that, while I didn’t forget completely, it was pushed a bit to the back of my mind, because so much was going on, and it was first mentioned while I was a little braindead. It took me a while of thinking to remember. Vash took me to my house, it seems he intended to make sure I got into a plane safely, and it sounded like he didn’t much trust the Germans to leave me alone. So, while I’m packing, I remember what Gilbert B. actually mentioned while threatening me… It seems he was implying already that he didn’t like me calling them nazi because they were already punished and he, in fact, said that they weren’t really nazis because Hitler didn’t really like Gilbert B. that much, and that Ludwig B. was the one who shot him in his bunker in the first place.

I bring it up to Vash, and he only says “Ah, yes, that happens every now and then.”

Honestly, that made things worse for me… They _could_ have done something way before things reached that point. They just _didn't._ Not until the very last second. Take from that what you will, because I did already…

Now I have to explain to my family why I was banned from Germany without mentioning any of this, because my new job requires my secrecy, and I don’t want to make a bigger nuisance of myself since it’ll actually affect my family if I get arrested in Switzerland too. This offers good money and also extra protection and insurance to my immediate family.

As to what you’re thinking now: I actually talked a little about this with Vash About the matter of secrecy, and what he thought of it. It seems the cat is a bit out of the bag already, and no one who’s aware of the problems the internet brings to it thinks there’s much to be done. The American Gaian, (whom he only called ‘Jones’), although asked by the UN for permission to 'recommend' directives to Silicon Valley concerning the suppression of this sort of information worldwide (and the subsequent shutdown of this subreddit and other forums of the sort, too, probably), Vash says he’s been stalling and giving excuses to not do anything, which actually means the UN is not exactly aware of how far the information has spread online.

Vash didn’t indicate that he cared if I posted this or not, and it sounded like not enough of them are resisting it enough and are just going about their lives anyway. As if they don't care that much what we know or think of them.

That just makes me wonder if they ACTUALLY understand what would happen if it was no longer a secret, honestly. We do say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks after all. But good for the people here. You still have time to work with.

* * *

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♦ [-] **GaiaIsReal** 3 hours ago

My man, don’t feel bad. This is a literal treasure trove of information right here. I can barely believe how many of my theories you’ve just validated, not to mention all the other incredible things you found out in one quick day without being really hurt at all! (and I’m so glad you’re okay) I’ve been urging everyone to be so cautious, but at this point, I’m really wondering how cautious do we REALLY need to be? Even more so if it’s as you said and they aren’t actually hostile to the idea? You’ve given me lots to think about.  
  
Do you mind answering a few questions?  
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> ♦ [-] **goatattack** 3 hours ago  
> I understand you don’t want to feel responsible if anyone dies in the pursuit of this, but going after them was my own choice and I was aware of the risks.  
>   
> Feel free to ask whatever you need. I’ll answer what I can, although I don’t have any information that I didn’t share in the OP. **  
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♦ [-] **awarold** 4 hours ago  
Holy shit.  
  
There’s so much information here, I barely know where to start…  
  
Hitler killed? Mind manipulation? Social bonds? There’s SO much to comment on, but first question that came to mind while reading, I was wondering that if this is how this works, how often were Jewish people were accepted into the ‘ingroup’…? Like wow, I’m actually wondering if it’s related to sentiments of persecution throughout times, because ‘sympathetic and empathetic bond’ seems to indicate that it’s a two-way street, ‘if the group is happy, they are happy’ while at the same time being capable of manipulating people to that extent? I’m REALLY wondering how their influence really works and if such events of hostility between ingroup and outgroup preferences have anything to do with it. Like, does it apply to the whole countries now? Wow, another thing hit me! Is this why there’s only ONE per country? Like, groups fighting until there’s basically only one left? I gotta share this in the thread for this exact topic…! **  
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> ♦ [-] **goatattack** 4 hours ago  
> That’s… actually an interesting idea… I didn’t think of it like that. Now I’m actually even a little happier about getting to meet Vash at all. Like, “this 2000-year old entity was there to protect me because of some ‘ancient bond’ with the people of the alps made thousands of years ago, and I guess I’m fully part of it now,” and that’s just nuts…  
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♦ [-] **disgracedandy** 2 hours ago  
‘They can’t help being what they are’. That’s a scary thought. It’s a logic we use for animals. When a tiger kills, we don’t call it a murderer, because it can’t help it, it’s just an animal, and it’s likely the person’s fault, not the tiger’s, it doesn’t know any better. This phrase has the same logic, that they can do no wrong by it alone because it’s ‘just in their nature’. I’m part of the camp here that assumes they’re not victims of their circumstances, but are just as morally accountable as any human, and therefore, very much complicit if they do anything immoral. The thought that they have, probably, gallons of blood in their hands scares the hell out of me. I don’t like the idea of excusing it with animal-morality logic, but if this ever sees the light of day to normies, which seems more and more likely, even more so by this event, and all the compiling events recently like in France, then I totally see people trying to excuse all of this with this exact logic.  
  
Like, okay, let’s apply that to the mind manipulation, that fact that it managed to scare someone into submission to the point when onlookers thought he was drugged. “Oh, that’s just how it is, IT didn’t mean to do that, you were just making it too angry. Sorry if it nearly fucking killed you! Maybe you should have been more careful!” I see where this is going and I don’t like it one bit.  
  
Another thing, when talking about ‘complicity’? Just a quick question: Why didn’t mister ‘guilty-consciousness’ kill the motherfucker EARLIER? Apparently, ‘that happens every now and then’. Why did he wait until the very END of the war? Now that’s a question you should have asked, because 'feeling bad' isn't going to cut it, and I think you're letting his appearance and mind tricks deceive you. Youngest or not, mid 1800's is still nearl 200 years ago. Plenty of time to LEARN HOW TO BE A DECENT FUCKING PERSON. Maybe ask Mr. Vash next time you see him. I would just LOVE to hear that one. **  
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♦ [-] **PennyDeStar** 1 hour ago  
Sweet merciful Buddha… You actually MET a bunch of them?! I’m not even one of the few lucky ones here who even seen them personally, much less met them! Man, there’s nothing I want more these days! XD  
  
I just can’t get over that AGE! Holy hell, how much HISTORY do they know…?!  
  
I mean, I understand you felt very personally affected because of family and heritage, but I just wish I could find one to just ask a few questions (a LOT of questions) about how’s like to LIVE like this and what informs their decisions and ideas…! This is an experience of a lifetime though! Since most people don’t ever actually see them personally. I’m not gonna say I’m jealous, but damn… There’s just too much I would ask someone who was born in 100BC, or an ACTUAL Crusader Knight!!!  
Since I study history on the side and psychology in college, I’d genuinely pay so much money to get ahold of this boatload of historical information! **  
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> ♦ [-] **mocool** 1 hours ago  
> More incredible and disconcerting yet, even something like the death of a historical figure like Hitler was edited for us. I wonder how much of our history was actually EDITED, not simply erased. This actually sets a pretty dangerous precedent for our historical knowledge… How much of it is just wrong now? We're living a lie, this is why this should see the light of mainstream day as soon as possible. There's no better way to actually put all the missing pieces of our history into proper place until we do this.  
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♦ [-] **pippa_philosophic** 47 minutes ago  
Wait, wait, wait. You got a JOB from one of them?! Seriously? Whatever happened to not selling out?! I get that we all need money to survive, but what makes you think that this isn't exactly how this usually goes? Mind tricks to make you trust them, give you financial security, then you're basically their tool? That's how people sellout and get stuck, you know?! Because you going get more money, you're going to get comfortable with that, then you won't have a choice but to keep doing what you're told because otherwise, these comforts are taken. Wth man. **  
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> ♦ [-] **kayanorak** 40 minutes ago  
> Didn't you read till the end? That the Swiss Gaian didn't think this would make a difference and didn't care if the OP wrote this? Don't you think he'll get even more information while working for one? **  
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>   * ♦ [-] **pippa_philosophic** 34 minutes ago  
> Oh yeah, I'm just gonna believe this 2K-year old entity. I'm sure after all this time, they really never learned to LIE. On top of being able to manipulate people's minds, I'm sure they never take advantage of that combination.  
>   
> S A R C A S M.  
>   
> I see no reason for an immortal entity to care about one inconsequential human-being. This whole 'ancient bond' thing seems so fishy, I really don't buy it. That said, I know I'm not the only one wonder who they are and what they really want with us. I wouldn't trust them that easily if I were you. This whole thing was creepy af. **  
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**♦ [-] folluncunscious** 49 minutes ago **  
**something interesting at the end (not that everything else isn’t), was the mentioning of ‘jones’… why am i not surprised? i knew this had to be the name of the american gaian, ive seen it mentioned. either way, did i read it right? he actually knows what we’re doing and is covering for us from the un? like why would he do that…? **  
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> **♦ [-] shoddy_warrior** 40 minutes ago  
> Everytime I look at a picture of that guy, I can't help but think 'dude looks like a really annoying libertarian jock'. Maybe he doesn't like UN, or doesn't like to give them or Sillicon Valley any incentive or precedent to practice censorship? Maybe that's only applied to US soil even, if things are like it says here and they maybe just care about the specific ingroup of humans they're bonded with. I know he's seen often with normal people, generally being a good samaritan, but there's no way he's such a saint.  
>   
> That actually makes me worry about what they think of humans in the outgroup, or if this ever caused any issues between them when it comes to their ingroup, being antagonistic with one another. Could have been a root-cause of war for all we know, and it doesn't just recontextualizes the France incident, but also what we have on the American Gaian from 2003. Just thinking about it feels like a bucket of ice-water hitting me.  
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♦ [-] **curious_moe** 2 hours ago  
Wow… That’s… Just too much to comment at once. I don’t know how true any of it is, ofc, but the whole idea of a bond with specific groups of people, this actually reminds me of that whole drama with that guy on YT last year, with the Japanese Gaian. I remember some guy who wrote here about a legend of Japanese mythology, and I thought it was really interesting, and that maybe it had some truth in it, to some extent. I just didn’t think it went this far with the accuracy… I can’t find that thread now, but it did say something eerily similar, iinm. Something about being an entity that protected a specific group from other entities of the same sort, and that was related to ancestry and group-identity. Maybe this is why there’s only one per country, maybe they killed each other until only one or two were left in the area, like some kind of Battle Royale shit. Maybe it still happens in less stable places, we don’t know how far this goes, but it sure is supremely interesting, mate… From this alone, it sounded like there was a lot more happening that we don’t know, like, personal shit, that’s just between them that no one has any idea about, and that makes it seem less impersonal than a distant entity of sorts, more like people with private history and other private issues that they deal with, like any other human being.

Like, have these two brothers argued about guilt and their issues with it before? Is it a touchy subject? Do they worry about things we worry about, like trying to just get along with family or struggling to do so? If these three are brothers, how did they separate and ‘bond’ with different peoples? Who the hell are their parents, where were they back then? Talking about why they live so long is all interesting and stuff, sure, maybe they’re aliens, who knows, but I’m actually very interested in their interpersonal relationships, and whether or not that interferes with us, and how far are they willing to go, or what they’re willing to do in the name of this ‘bond’, like, what it means to them, and why do they do this…

Either way, it kinda contextualizes the whole thing in France for me, it makes me think that this could have been the real reason why the French Gaian went after the escaped terrorists in the first place, maybe to get revenge in the name of this bond, or to keep them from hurting anyone else to keep ‘his people’ safe…? That too just makes me wonder what the hell was happening to this guy during the French Revolution. Isn't he in a painting of an iconic event, the beheading of the king? Wasn't he one of the people at the stage, was he the one holding the head to a cheering crowd? Didn't things get out of control and many innocent French people ended up beheaded too? Isn't that the source of 'La Terrour'? The TERROR? Maybe it's not as simple as we think here, there was much more happening there that we don't know. Clearly.  
  
I really feel like this will be another big mark in the very history of this issue, tho… **  
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**…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd have made the comment chains longer, but AO3 doesn't let me do double blockquote to get a blockquote inside another blockquote. I had to use bullet list just to get a third roll, and it looks a little out of place. Formatting it was a bitch. :/  
> I covered as much as I could from the whole event with the space I had, though, I since I didn't want to keep repeating the same information just worded differently on every comment thread. lol
> 
> Anyway, I think this is the end of this particular event. It didn't end in an explosion, as I said I didn't want to do it like that yet. But I think it was reasonable. Sit down with the malcontent, explain why he's wrong, and send him on his way, now with a career opportunity! Win-win. I assume it's not that easy to find people and go through the process of letting them know without causing so much disbelief that the person leaves or blabs. Like Prussia said, it's harder to talk about this with secular-minded people.  
> (Also, yeah, like I mentioned, past issues nations would have had with different religions would be a thing, and almost everyone had a problem with Jews back then, nations shouldn't be an exception, that's kinda how it was… Considering that Prussia was pretty brazenly Christian, I think he'd have had a learned distaste for them too, and ofc he'd eventually get over it and push it aside, as politics took the forefront of his concerns with the Prussian state).
> 
> I wanted it to not drag, but I didn't want it to be extreme to the point where the consequences would be too harsh in the future. Like in modern times, in the 1st world, killing a human over it should be out of the question, as I already established that killing/hurting each other's humans was a severe breach of diplomacy.
> 
> Like I said, I intend to escalate slowly, from grassroots until it reaches mainstream culture, then it'll get to politics.  
> We're moving on to the next issue, but the effects of both France and Germany events will still be felt in the future. There's still a lot of interesting events to cover too.
> 
> Anyhow, thanks for reading! Sorry if it felt a little slow or anti-climatic, but I just don't want to go nuts yet! I hope I'm not testing my readers' patience just yet. \o/
> 
> [Hey, I got a Gab account. Twitter sucks.](https://gab.com/Ms_YYK) For random videos I find, funny or serious, memes, excerpts from what book I'm reading, and random thoughts.


	11. A Little Family Spat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Changed this chapter's position to be 11 instead of 10. I figured this was probably better, to not cut off the previous plot.
> 
> The **Series** will be for everything Hetalia that I write, which includes any X-overs I write too. Not strictly related to this story, although I use the same ideas and headcanons overall (just adapted to fit the x-over if needed). I started with a 'The Old Guard' x-over with APH because I just saw the movie and I thought it was a cool premise, so it's just a little one-shot. :D

**UK Embassy in New York City**

**4AM**

“What a bloody disaster…” His father bemoaned as soon as they went through the door.

“…Well, what did you expect, really?” America locked it behind him, exhaling in relief once they were out of the snowy and cold street.

The embassy was empty at this hour, and everything was still dark as they meandered further inside without much trouble.

“Politics…!” England spat under his breath on their way to the elevator, past the main hallway. “Utter nonsense all the way through.”

Indeed…

A whole meeting trying to delineate directives for nations to follow from now on, to attempt to curb the compiling of evidence by humans. It should have been a simple topic, easy planning, just a few do's and don'ts, _but…_

It instead devolved into a shouting match with the more stubborn nations who didn't care about this issue at all. 

America sighed. “Don’t talk too much here, it’s late.” He gestured loosely to the security cameras.

England huffed and pressed the button, waiting with his arms crossed.

The silence was heavy for a moment. As soon as the doors opened, they quickly stepped in, waiting anxiously for some damn privacy.

America watched it close, eyes narrowing until it _finally_ clicked; he relaxed completely and whined in irritation, leaning back against the wall. “Aargh, everyone’s so annoyiiiing…!”

“Can’t put the bickering aside for something important like this, can they?”

“I knooow…!” America whined some more.

“Well, you _wanted_ to be the hegemon, remember? That’ll be _your_ problem to solve.”

“Oh, fuck _right_ off. You’re just as annoyed as I am.” America hissed back. “…And you said you’d help out, not watch from the sidelines, what the shit, man…”

“Didn’t you _explicitly_ state there would be no sharing? There you have it, lad.”

America snarled under his breath.

Yeah, he did say that… and he doesn’t regret it now, even less back in the 50's… But goddamn, is it _infuriating_ to be in his shoes sometimes.

The doors open. It’s an MI5 agent that greeted them at the top floor, having traveled from the UK to accompany England and be his little servant for a while. “Welcome back, Lord Kirkland, and Mr. Jones.”

America saluted casually while England nodded. “Yes, glad to be out of that firepit.” The agent nodded and guided them back to England’s room in the embassy. He stood outside once they entered the room, and would wait outside the door for the night-shift…

The room was homey, made to accommodate the old man’s stay.

Besides the usual embassy duties, these buildings also tended to serve as small homes for visiting nations, and nations liked to invest enough into its appearance, size, furniture, and comfort, as it’s like a piece of their home outside their countries, and they wanted their home to impress the host.

A little mark of their status and relationship with America himself, too, since it was all _their_ money, from the land purchase, to the whole structure and staff payments.

If America liked them enough, he’d let them have more than two, and most only went as far as officially devoting money to NYC and DC spaces.

England did so too, and he liked to make it as distastefully _British_ as he could manage, hanging the Union Jack rather proudly over the bed, as bed covers, and couch cushions, and wherever else he could get away with.

America couldn’t say anything without having it thrown right back at him with his own overuse of his flag everywhere… And England knew that damn well, which is exactly _why_ he did this.

_Passive-aggressive limey…_

England turned on the lights and America made a bee-line to the small kitchenette, quickly locating the kettle to make some coffee, which he's been in dire need of.

“So,” England began from his side of the room. “ _what_ are we going to do now…?”

Yeah, now that it’s clear that most nations are too damn stubborn to change their habits or obey any new rules to maintain a secret most of them don’t care enough about… what would they do?

America hummed thoughtfully as he filled the kettle with water. “Well…” Once filled enough, he turned on the stove to heat it. “The better question is what _can_ we even do at this point…” He turned the old man, leaning on the counter.

England had lost the jacket and loosened his tie, now lain on the couch in the middle of the room. He frowned. “…Maybe we _should_ have gotten rid of that website from the start…”

“It's a sub-forum, not the whole website, you tech illiterate."

"I _know_ how to handle technology, ye rude git!"

America ignored him and continued. "Besides, that’d just confirm everything they’re saying, and then they’d regroup somewhere else.”

England grimaced and rubbed his face with a tired sigh. “Yes, yes, I see that…” He sat up. “I suppose we’re doomed, then, because most of the DAUN prefers to be at each other's throats instead of listening to reason.”

The kettle began to whistle, and America rolled his eyes. “Yep… Just like I expected it…” He turned and grabbed the coffee and the utensils needed to brew it from the cupboards. 

_This_ was why America preferred to ignore this issue for as long as he could. He cared about keeping said secrecy as far as it was convenient to do so, not as much as Germany by a mile, but he still hated that the rest of the nations would _think_ he had such an exploitable weakness as _caring too much about keeping a secret._

Even if keeping said secrecy was objectively better for them in all metrics, that still didn't stop small-minded weaklings from trying to use it as blackmail… _'Be nicer, or we might just do something a little too public.'_

_Damn those lousy idiots taking potshots…_

"Can't say we don't deserve some of that, however…" England muttered. "We _did_ cross the line, to force them to our side…"

 _2001 again… They both did things they regretted,_ and America was sure his government just _loved_ to have a nation _willing_ to go wild for a while… And England being so willing to go do that _with_ him was… _something America would rather not think too much about…_

But America scoffed in annoyance. "That's got nothing to do with _us._ It's not fair at all to hold that over _all_ of our heads since it's not even _about_ us, it's about _everyone."_ He reasoned.

"Sniveling malcontents…" England agreed, rather bitterly too.

Nations just don’t know how to cooperate well enough in such big numbers for such a big goal… The humans can try and _try_ to make them understand each other and get along, over and _over_ again, but it never works out in the end…

There were always a few 'malcontents' and difficult bastards making everything worse for everyone else.

If it wasn’t one looking out for themselves above others at _all_ costs, then it was just too much bad blood with some others, and there was nothing they could do to fix it.

They hardly ever _forgive,_ right? He knows neither he nor his dad did, either.

And with _this_ coming their way… well, maybe it was all bound to bite them in the ass _eventually._

America has long learned that secrets never stay secret forever, so he's been trying to get over it and _adapt…_

“Could you _please_ make some tea as well?”

“Nope.”

Sigh. “Figures. At least leave me enough hot water–”

“Just heated enough water for one cup, sorry~” America just turned to grin, unapologetic.

England didn’t look surprised, just resigned as he stood. “I don’t know why I asked…”

“Yeah, I don’t either.” America leaned on the counter with his steaming cup of fresh coffee, having poured a big chunk of sugar in it.

England just went about repeating the process for his tea, and America tapped his cup, frowning. “You know… I’ve been thinking…”

“Ooh, what a marvel.” The cupboards opened and closed.

“Cheap.” America rolled his eyes. “But no, seriously.” He took a sip and turned to him. “Let’s just say this whole thing _is_ just… inevitable, you know?” _As it probably was…_

England hummed in disapproval, but didn’t interrupt further, rummaging in a drawer for a spoon.

“…What are they going to think of us, exactly…?” America frowned.

“Us nations?”

“Yeah, I mean…” America hesitated for a second, a rare little show of weakness he was willing to spare. “If it is inevitable, and we just stay quiet and, I dunno, wait it out… won’t they just create some pretty malicious conspiracies…?” He took another big sip and waited.

Because unless they _all_ coordinated and purged the online world of their presence, _constantly,_ the evidence would just pile up again…

America wasn’t actually expecting things to get so out of control in just a year, to be honest… Many nations didn't know the real extent of it, but it was getting pretty ugly…

And he wasn’t so eager to give his government the 'moral mandate' to curate the internet of things they didn’t like… Hell, he was still happy that they had no idea what was even happening.

The _real_ tech illiterates there…

That meant that the overall strategy the G agreed was the right way forward _wasn't actually a good idea, and America put no real faith in it._

England blinked, and seemed to stop and think for a bit. The kettle slowly began to whistle, and a few more seconds went by as it got louder. He finally turned the stove off. “Well… _Your_ people like conspiracies the most…" Steaming water was poured. "So I wouldn’t be surprised if the worst of those sprung up from _you lot…”_

“Heeey–”

“It’s true and you know it, hush.” He left it with a teabag and a saucer atop the cup.

 _And yeah…_ America could _admit_ it was true, his people did like a good conspiracy theory…

“But then again, the reality _is_ rather ludicrous, from a secular perspective…”

“Hm… And most probably wouldn’t even believe it if it was just said point-blank.” America agreed, almost to himself.

England turned and leaned against the counter, letting the teabag marinate for a bit. “Which we wouldn’t get from _any_ of our sovereigns, so what's the point here…?” He mused, lazily.

America hummed, sipping his coffee. “Aah, even if my government _did_ come out with this, a lot of my citizens would probably just…” He chuckled sheepishly. “think they’re lying…? Or maybe think there’s something fishy or suspicious about it… Or that they’re covering something up… Or…”

Rightfully so… And it’d just look really bad for _him,_ to be honest, he thought while England continued with his tea-making ritual, _add milk then sugar,_ _always the same; America kinda hated that he recognized it step-by-step by now._

But now that he thought about the whole situation, the _worst_ thing his government could do was to say _anything_ about this… It'd just cause such a monumental mess, and it's election year coming soon…!

The last thing America needed was this sort of unstable BS during elections…

England watched him while swirling the tea with a spoon, in that _uncomfortable_ manner that indicated he was trying to read his thoughts and emotions. He nudged his chin, and let the spoon moving on its own for a few seconds. “Ah.” It stopped as a thought hit him. “I see…”

“…What?” America grumbled back, not liking his tone, glaring at the spoon.

England sipped his tea. The spoon stayed still despite the movement. “You’re just worried your people will think _you’re_ as untrustworthy as your government… Got nothing to do with everyone else’s secrecy, innit?”

_Yeah, not exactly… But also yeah, kinda… Damn him, reading him like a damn book._

_As a child, he used to think England could really read his thoughts like some kind of witch, and sometimes he still wonders if he could, considering his father’s off-putting natural powers…_

_Weird occult shit, America’s always found it so creepy…_

America narrowed his eyes, tapping his cup. “Aren’t _you_ worried?”

England smiled, a little smug, but not wide. “They’d see that I serve not Parliament, but our _queen,_ and with the _utmost_ loyalty as well. It’s not as threatening if they know _exactly_ where your loyalties lie. So, where do yours again?” His pitch rose a bit at the end, as if poking to provoke. 

America smirked faintly at the challenge. “My _loyalties_ lie with my citizens and our Constitution. You of all people should _really_ know that.”

“Aye, aye, I know, you rebellious little _brat…”_ England rolled his eyes and walked away. “Then I suppose you just ought to make that _evidently_ clear to your people.”

America held his chin on his palm. “I’m pretty sure I already do…” He works so much to help his people in their day-to-day lives whenever he could throughout the year, that had to count for _something…_ “That doesn’t mean no one will be pissed off at our existence.”

“Naturally.” England didn’t seem to mind that particular idea, and approached the curtains, peeking behind into the late-night.

Dramatic old man… “Okay? And?”

“Well, you know, humans can feel very jealous of immortality…" His tone softened considerably. "They may grow resentful, or look to blame us for the world’s woes…” England shrugged with a weary sigh and went to sit on the couch again. "And not take so kindly to any perceived transgressions, even if they happened decades or centuries ago…"

“So…” America followed after him. He glanced aside. “what _if…_ someone decides to bring this up to the law…?” He asked, very cautiously, since this here was a good segway into what America needed to talk to England about…

_Honestly, he almost forgot; talking to England was always distracting and rather dispersed when it came to topics of conversation…_

“Hm? How so?”

“Like _suing_ a nation for…” England looked mildly alarmed at his words. “I dunno, some _wrong_ from the past?”

“That’s…” England raised an eyebrow, before shaking his head in dismissal. “ridiculous. It’s not our fault when humans spur conflicts between us, we have no choice but to follow along.”

America winced. “Yeah, that’s… not, uh… How to say this…?”

“Oh, stop mumbling, out with it already!”

“…Alright, geez…” America rolled his eyes in irritation. “Ludwig got sued by a human.”

England startled, wide-eyed. “Wot…?!”

“See, you didn’t let me explain properly.”

“Wh– But that’s–!” England sputtered and gestured at him, before groaning in annoyance, a hand slapping over his eyes. “Why didn’t you say this _earlier?!”_

“I was waiting for a good time to say it.” His freak-outs were funny to watch, honestly… “Also, Emma asked me not to share it around, she just thinks you can keep your mouth shut, so… Ta-daaa, you’re in on it.” America smiled, waving a hand.

England just pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, is that what Emma was… No, nevermind, just _what_ is going on, _exactly?”_ He looked up, brows furrowed.

“They’re working on it, calm down.”

“‘They’ who?”

“Gilbert and–”

“You’re _joking–?!”_

“Let me _finish._ Gilbert aaand… ‘Zwingli the Impartial’.”

That made England relax considerably. “At least someone competent…”

“Gilbert can be competent, too.” America shrugged, sitting on the other end of the couch as well.

“Yes, when he _feels_ like it.” England waved him off. “Never have I see a grown nation so utterly _idle_ in my life…!”

America didn’t want to argue, although he could mention his uncle Wales as a comparison… He leaned heavily into the couch, drinking the last of his coffee in one go.

England was staring thoughtfully and intensely at the coffee table. Processing, most likely…

The room sounded extra quiet…

“Are _you_ worried?” England suddenly asked.

"Hm?" America tilted his head at him. “…About what?”

England gave him that grimace, the one reserved to America whenever he was being willfully obtuse. “About being on the receiving end of this exact situation. Don’t dodge.”

“Not dodging…” America shrugged. “I’m not worried about that. I’ve never personally done anything to warrant that sort of thing.”

“Really…” England drawled.

“Don’t give me that. Key-word is ‘personally’, which is what matters under the law.”

“Correction: that will matter in front of a judge, but not to someone looking for some kind of justice.”

“Well, justice for what…?”

“…How about those internment camps in the 40’s–?” England smirked softly, although he knew _damn well_ what America’s answer was.

He was just _poking._

“Hmm, that was Frank’s thing…?” America grinned with gritted teeth, a bit annoyed. “It’s not _my_ fault he _really_ didn’t like Asians…” It was no mystery that FDR distrusted them the most, they were at _war,_ so…

“You didn’t like them either…”

“O-Okay, maybe I _questioned_ their loyalty… But I didn’t want them _behind bars…!_ What the hell is your point?”

“My point is that _people_ who some may seek justice from are long _dead,_ or they’re powerful and connected, so they're unreachable. People may just… want a more visible target to blame…” England shrugged again with a sigh.

Oh…?

It wasn't a habit of his to _shrug,_ now that America thought about it… That meant something was _actually_ bothering him, deeper down.

America stopped, leaning back on his seat. For a moment, the old man looked… a little too tired.

Well now… “Are _you_ worried about being blamed for anything?” America wondered quietly, _knowingly._ “Anything to do with that whole empire you _lost?_

Maybe it wasn’t nice to rub it in, _but America really couldn’t help it sometimes…_

England only hummed noncommittally, but shook his head… And America narrowed his eyes, suspicious. England sighed in response. “Don’t be so _nosy,_ you twat. It’s unsightly…” He hissed, leaning closer with a glare.

_Right… So maybe it wasn't **quite** that… Expected, the old man had some pride in his empire, so he wasn't likely to buckle in shame over it._

It didn’t deter America. “Did you _do_ something wrong?”

England scoffed under his breath. “I don’t think so.”

“So you _did_ do something.” Just not something he found to be _wrong,_ but at the same time, _maybe,_ something others would object to…

“…I think you should _leave.”_

Bingo.

England continued. “The Embassy is technically my propriety, so you ought to respect that, no?”

“It’s your propriety by _my_ grace, as you yourself would say…”

“So, you don’t care that much about private propriety after all, ey…?”

“Don’t try to dodge.” America grinned in annoyance. “And don’t think I missed how you didn’t even _try_ to rag on Francis over his _stunt_ yesterday.”

“It may be because he’s done this before. You _know_ it’s no surprise when he acts out like this.”

“It's not actually that common…”

"It's common _enough."_

Clearly, he wasn’t budging, so America relaxed. He's done pushing, for now.

It could be that the old man did something similar to France, but _quietly_ instead… France usually went temporarily bananas in a way that was difficult to hide, as he tended to do. While England was more likely to keep his 'crazy' behind curtains.

The guy wasn’t usually a hypocrite, even less so these days, so he’d naturally refrain from throwing rocks in his glass-house…

England was one of his best allies, _admittedly…_ So America deigned to appease him every now and then…

America would play nice and wait a little longer for answers… “Okay… I’ll bite.” _For now…_ He stood and took both empty cups to the sink. “So, I’m gonna go now.”

 _“Thank_ you.” That was a sharp, relieved, and passive-aggressive tone.

America tried not to let himself feel offended, _maybe he pushed too much,_ and he took his gloves off and quickly cleaned the dishes. “…Don’t forget we’ve got drills to carry out in the next few months.” He reminded, as an afterthought. 

A few seconds of just the running water sounding. “…Are you _sure_ we should be interfering with those two?”

 _What?_ America stopped, then continued more slowly. "…Why _wouldn't_ we…?"

He knows damn well England noted his disapproving tone… A sigh. "Whatever happened to that kid who wanted to stay out of the world's business…" 

He really didn't like England's tone and implications here…

Finished, America whipped his wet hands and turned to him, his mood taking a quick nosedive at the prospective start of another annoying argument. "Whatever happened to that guy who wanted to help out in '01?"

He hated to argue about this…

 _"That guy_ got tired of a war that should have been over when _you_ found and killed the one responsible." England pointed at him in admonishment. "I say we let the _locals_ solve their problems now."

"Why are we talking about this?"

"You brought it up."

"I reminded you of something that was _already_ scheduled."

"What makes you think I forgot? You brought it up for a reason, I'm sure."

America's eyes narrowed. _Fuck, what does **that** mean…?! _"Don't act like _I_ want this war to keep going. I'm tired too!" He gestured to himself. "Why are you bitching _now?"_

"Because you _reminded_ me that this is utterly pointless!"

"Oh, do you _really_ think we can just pack up and leave _now?_ It's done so we'll just leave?" 

"I _understand."_ England snapped. "I understand what you mean, but that's not what I'm talking about."

"No, you don't." America snapped. "I'm not _you,_ I won't want to leave until I'm _sure_ things will be okay without us there." _They wouldn't. Things were still such a shitty mess that France lost some of his citizens to it._

Adding an Refugee Crisis on top of it… Well, this would just keep happening to them, _and to America,_ until the situation was handled.

"How arrogant of you, to think you can actually fix that whole area." England scoffed a laugh in disbelief.

America shook his head, almost tuning him out. "You won’t care about it until it hurts you and your citizens, is that right? Like it did with Francis?” He could already predict that these things would _keep_ happening until those extremist _thugs_ were dealt with…

He doesn't want to _wait._

_Because sooner or later it'd happen to **his** citizens._

England pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I said.”

“You didn't have to!" America snapped back. "It's the implicit _result_ of what you said! Those two useless _idiots_ can’t deal with a terrorist movement by themselves, we might as well help, right?”

“If you want to call mercenary work ‘help’, then sure.”

America slapped a hand over his eyes and sighed. What the fuck is wrong with him, why is this one issue suddenly such a landmine? England was rarely this unresponsive and _annoying._

Maybe America could guess with a little thought, but he was already tired of arguing, he's reached his quota of arguments with England.

“Whatever.” He gloved his hands and he went to the door. “Try to sleep a little? It sounds like you _need_ it.”

“Oh, fuck off already.”

America smiled, a little sharp in his anger. “That’s better… Have a good night.” He waved and left the room at the sound of England seething behind.

He ignored the MI5 agent outside, _who certainly heard at least some of their argument,_ and went to the elevator, already finding it on his floor just like they’d left it.

The day was messy, and it didn’t end on a positive note. America seriously needed some downtime now… He’d need it tomorrow as talks resumed again.

He could tell England was in a bad mood ever since he arrived, and that this whole issue with their secrecy worried him, although he tried to _hide_ how much it did so. America could tell something was bothering him _a_ _lot._

But his reaction to the mere mention of their Middle East involvement… America wasn't sure it was related, actually, or that it was simply a sudden anti-war sentiment…

But, it seems he was worried about his overall PR, should he become a public figure.

Worried about something he did, that he feared coming to light…

The old man has always had a short temper when under high enough emotional stress, _and he knows that the ceiling to his limit of stress was pretty high…_

He'd _bet_ that England’s been _acting out_ under the rug, instead of freaking out in public like France, and that the prospect of being found might look as bad as the war involvement…

Which was smarter, yes, but America had to wonder what _exactly_ he was up to that warranted this much concern… Was it related to terroristic threats, like with France? Or was it something… broader? More encompassing? Did it connect with his newfound concerns over action in the Middle East anyway…?

_And how much of a problem this was going to be when America needed England to be a proactive ally to help him fix the damn situation…?_

The doors opened and America looked up from the floor and headed out of the Embassy, almost forgetting to lock the door behind once outside.

He huffed and patted his arms. It was too chilly at this hour… But chilly at home didn’t bother him as much, and he chose to just walk to his NYC apartment instead.

He turned back to look up at the window to England’s floor, still walking, but found the lights off already. He frowned and shook his head, turning away again.

Maybe… the simplest reason was the reality. Occam’s Razor and all…

So, to _trim_ everything:

Although England wanted to believe that his loyalty to his Crown would be his best shield, it’s possible he was still worried about the optics of his involvement in the war, and his _other_ activities.

Some of which no one but him, _and possibly some loyal government agents,_ knew about…

They all had their secrets… and America couldn’t blame him, of course.

 _But,_ risk to their secrecy wasn’t more important than the _exhausting responsibilities_ of being the goddamn _police_ of this mess of a ‘community’, as the humans liked to call it…

If it came down to it in the end, risk to secrecy, or even total discovery, was no excuse to abandon their duties. That part wasn't _about them._

America was thrown into this role, and unfortunately, as much as he liked to complain, that's where he'd stay until further notice… because America hated to do anything half-assed, even if it was something he was tired of doing…

_Half-assed jobs end in failure, or unsatisfactory results. Not affordable in the Middle East…_

…Contrary to what his government thought, he _did_ take his hegemon position seriously… Even when he vented out his frustrations, when his patience ran dry, he wasn't just being an irresponsible brat who didn't understand anything…

Although he and the G nations wanted everyone else to cooperate and regulate their public behavior, they still needed to get the chance to 'deal with one another', to solve disputes, to figure out a less aggressive way of dealing with their issues with one another.

Which meant they had to move about in public to participate in the meetings and deal with the troubles America and others wanted them to deal with.

And if they _all_ somehow _quit_ that whole management for a while (which by _their_ standards meant 'a few generations'), their relations would eventually derail back to pre-UN state, where tensions ran high and everyone distrusted each other so completely that the humans started to actually feel it.

_According to theory, of course, of course…_

That included not dealing with terrorists, and just letting the humans deal with it entirely, which just sounded inefficient as hell.

Despite everything, America didn't think the secrecy was more important than the stability of their political floor, _so,_ they _had_ to risk breaching the veil of secrecy if they wanted to maintain that status quo…

But _at the same time,_ the more they breached it, the more it stacked further problems that would cause instability in the _future_ when humans inevitably started to get more involved as evidence started to look more credible…

So, they're technically stuck either way…

America groaned in annoyance, ruffling his hair and messing it all up. "Fuck…"

Be damned if they do, be damned if they don't, huh…?

Well… One side was clearly worse than the other, so…

America would gladly ignore the directives, even if it pissed off the rest of the Gs.

* * *

 **Newscast Knight** @NewscastKnightShow . 3 hrs

French news weirdly silent about the terrorist attack in their country. Minimal media coverage after the Breaking News moment. Story dropped in 90% of its news cycle after 2 days. #DontLookAway

**← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**

FAVORITES  
671  
10:42 AM – 11 Jan 2015

> **GlitzIts [US]** @GlitzIts . 3 hrs
> 
> It’s like they want us to ignore and forget. It’s creepy. #DontLookAway
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
> **Walter Way** @Wellaway_101 . 3 hrs
> 
> What the hell is going on?! Why is everyone going quiet about this?! Not just in France, but here in the US too! #DontLookAway
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
> **Media Meter** @MediaMeeter . 3 hrs
> 
> Shady, ey…? All western media is backing away from this like it's radioactive. Even RT seems to be tiptoeing. And oddly enough, CHINA is actually covering it instead. What a fucking world to live in. #DontLookAway
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
> **Ray** @RayWatts . 3 hrs
> 
> These elites DISGUST ME! Why are they trying to ignore it?! To cover it up?! WHY? #DontLookAway
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
> **Suzy Sugar [FR] [ <3]** @Surcoat . 3 hrs
> 
> So DISRESPECTFUL to the victims! SHAME on French media for ignoring it just because it wasn’t in THEIR damn backyards! RIP, praying for everyone **…** #DontLookAway
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
> **Vammy** @VamOT . 3 hrs
> 
> Anybody seen any filmed stuff from the attack? Any word on the attackers? Media’s total blackout to me here in Australia.
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
> **Wine is Love** @vino_KAT . 3 hrs
> 
> La Terrour only appears when things aren’t okay in Baguette Land! Guess we’ll have beheadings and Bonaparte again soon. #OminousSigns #DontLookAway
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
> **Royal** @East_Royal . 3 hrs
> 
> I see no reason why the media would want to hide this. I’m sure they’d gain loads of revenue from the coverage. Is it related to this vigilante I keep hearing about? #DontLookAway
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
> **Hiro K.** @Doom_Hiro . 3 hrs
> 
> There are people mourning for loved ones. Medias quiet, people are spreading conspiracy theories online. This is fertile ground for misinformation! #DontLookAway
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
>   
> **Hiro K.** @Doom_Hiro . 3 hrs
> 
> ALSO, so very disappointed in FR News for perpetuating this while ignoring all criticism!!! #DontLookAway
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
> **From Jiku Town** @Jiku_111 . 3 hrs
> 
> There’s a vigilante. Killed one in front of people with a FUCKING SWORD like nothing.  
> Chased the other one, killed him in an alleyway, then disappeared.  
> Wtf
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
> **Lavi Mendes** @Lavender_Lavi . 3 hrs
> 
> r/gaiaisreal #GaiaIsReal
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**
> 
> **Leonard Is Blogging** @Leo_Blog . 3 hrs
> 
> La Terrour is back in France again!
> 
> [SWIronicPalpatine.jpg]
> 
> **← Reply ↔ Retweet ♡ Favorite … More**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone use Parlor? :D No Twitter for me, that place sounds like hell every time I visit it.
> 
> So America and England have a little complicated relationship. Ngl, this conversation was INCREDIBLY hard to write. Not sure how cohesive it was, but I really tried…  
> I tend to write its modern version as slightly one-sided, as in, England is a little more comfortable with the idea that America is his _ally_ and won't backstab him ever. America doesn't feel like his old man would do that either, but he's not _as_ cozy with the thought as England is, even though he wants to be (but that's mostly because America here is naturally paranoid).
> 
> It's a bit hard to write their familiarity, though, and how they deal with one another in terms of world politics and such. There should still be a slight little hint of saltiness over the past, but due to how things are nowadays, they'd usually put that aside most of the time. Mostly water under the bridge, but they're still very much aware that said water is there, and would gladly needle the other over it occasionally.
> 
> I also really like the thing with the embassies, btw, since I read that each country kinda pays for their respective embassies in foreign countries, and I thought that was interesting, so I figured that it'd be more interesting if they all went to their respective embassies instead of all congregating in a hotel every year for a meeting. This would genuinely attract a lot less attention, and it's probably just a smarter move, you know?
> 
> Anyway, the thing with France is something that I like to have in the AU… When I see other fics of this sort (or even other historical fics), it's like the characters didn't have much _effect_ in the world overall. But I like the idea that over time, nations would create what modern people would call 'urban legends', or maybe personas that became famous for their time. They did their thing, and left a mark, sometimes repeatedly, and I like that France left a pretty big mark during the Revolution, to the point where he attained some infamy and became a slightly supernatural urban legend, instead of simply an infamous individual of the era... (the whole story with France and 'La Terrour' is a whole 'nother thing, and one day I'll write an one-shot about that topic too, as well as something for other characters too, since some of them also have a famous name).
> 
> Either way, I'm sorry if it was too loaded with too much politics, but I really don't think America and England wouldn't have this sort of thing going on _constantly,_ since America is the hegemon of the Western world, and England is kind of his biggest ally. A lot of people seem to forget that the whole venture in 2003 involved _both_ the US and the UK, it wasn't just America out and about, England was there going rage-crazy with him too. >.>
> 
> I also went a little further about their general thoughts on their responsibilities as nations, and that was incredibly difficult to flesh out in a cohesive manner, I'm not even sure I managed to do it justice…  
> I wanted to highlight a bit the idea that maintaining their secrecy would require more distance in this world of the internet, but that'd require that they step away from these issues, which America doesn't think it's worth it, despite not wanting to become a public figure either, while England (and Germany, and others) are more concerned about how the fallout of that will affect them, and… how they might have to deal with the consequences of things they've done, or things they're currently doing…  
> …What England is doing… uuuuh, there's a bit of a plot idea I really want to follow, so… he's doing something I think that would _logically happen_ if a 'defensive creature' like him existed, and it's supposed to be a pretty tense situation with some hefty controversies (maybe one can guess… >.>), but… I dunno, I might be pushing my luck trying to write something like this… Maybe it's not a good idea… 
> 
> We'll see… <:3
> 
> [Hey, I got a Gab account. Twitter sucks.](https://gab.com/Ms_YYK) For random videos I find, funny or serious, memes, excerpts from what book I'm reading, and random thoughts.


	12. With Friends Like These

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got work, so I couldn't update so soon. :) 
> 
> I still got a lot I want to write about here, and definitely a more-or-less solid plot I want to follow. Also, I switched Ch10 with Ch11, so it'd be a little more orderly.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos, and I'm so happy the comments so far have been nice and civil. :) Let's see if that'll change...

**Washington D.C. – 4PM**

America breathed in the air once he finally stepped out of the private plane, hoisting his bag over his shoulder, squinting at the sun, just low enough to blare at him from beyond the hangar.

An agent there to greet him saluted as he walked down the steps. “Welcome back, sir.”

“Yeeeah, always _great_ to be in D.C. again.” America drawled, putting on sunglasses, and the agent followed him out of the hangar.

"…I hope your meeting was positively eventful, sir."

America spat a laugh. "Yeah, sure!" He better laugh, because he didn't want anyone to have doubts. Most of it wasn't all hopeless, it was just a specific issue that looked a little bleak…

The first day, discussing their secrecy and the following protocols to maintain an acceptable level of anonymity, was, naturally, a waste of time. A lot of nations didn't quite care about it, and some were eager to haggle over it.

In the following days, however, they were back to the usual schedule, and that wasn't _as_ annoying. 

Still, it was tiring enough that he'd rather get a flight instead of _immediately_ Jumping back to D.C., to at least have an excuse to delay this, silly as it was. _Also because flying was generally relaxing…_

“Aah, my keys?”

“Here, sir.”

With his car-keys in hand, America went to the usual spot they parked his car at, in the airport’s VIP parking spots. “Everything okay around here?”

“Yes, sir, mostly; however…”

“Hm?”

“There’s been a suspicious pair near your apartment for the last few days, one has a camera, and they seem to be media. It was from no _reputable_ news source.”

It wasn’t TV, of course. They were literally and contractually obligated to ignore nations, although that only manifested in censorship when the FDL started making calls…

America was still walking, and narrowed his eyes in thought. “Indie media online, then…” He hummed, then sighed dramatically. “Sorry, I gotta go meet the boss now, so, could you put on something ‘civilian’ and go figure out what they want? Call me once you got answers.”

“Yes, sir.”

America grinned. “Great!” In the parking lot, he turned back to the agent, still walking. “Also-also, if you can, try to get their contact number and stuff. Cook up whatever story you need to get it, kay?”

“Of course, sir.”

The rest of the way, America had his earphones, mouthing and humming some oldies with some few modern gems in between.

The other agents guarding his car saluted him, a gesture which he always returns, and soon enough, he was on his way.

Tapping the wheel and singing, while also texting the FDL for updates, letting the head-of-department there know that _things were so **not** looking good, haha._

So… his day’s schedule would follow a bit like this, he decided while driving: see what Kuamu wanted, then get some work somewhere, maybe find someone he could help at random, then go to his apartment once night hit, then do whatever until everyone was asleep and find something interesting online.

Someone to hunt, something to hack, something to do, something to research or read about…

America nodded to himself. Yup, much better than the utter uselessness of dealing with a bunch of self-righteous nations complaining about each other over every damn thing under the sun, from annoying trade-deals, to breaches of conduct, to disagreements over borders and territorial claims, to mere personal distaste.

Really, it was mostly about who metaphorically stepped on whose metaphorical _foot._

So, he turned on the news on his phone, if only to know what they’re on about at the moment and to distract himself from the stress of this week's agenda…

 _“–the source of the harassment is a message board online, until recently very unknown, now being recognized for its extreme conspiracy theories. The numerous emails and tweets demand that public officials speak out on this fringe, occult narrative of non-humans that supposedly exist,”_ Here, the reporter chuckled briefly–

_What…?!_

_“Now, State Representative Bennet, what do you think?”_

_A House Congressman?!_

America glared at his phone, eyebrow raised. _Why were they even indulging this nonsense…?!_

_“Well, the internet can be a very dangerous place. It’s easy to fall into a rabbit hole of extremism where you start to believe strange things that fall outside the purview of reality.”_

_“How many emails have you alone been receiving about this conspiracy, Congressman?”_

_“Oh, many.”_ Bennett, from Kansas. What the hell. _“Just yesterday, my inbox was filled with hundreds, just from these people creating accounts and, well, it takes up space, makes it harder to spot real people with real concerns in the middle of all the copied messages repeating–”_

_“We believe them to be ‘bots’, correct?”_

_“Indeed! It’s a mess! Such a mess. This is the result of a deranged idea springing from a few looneys holed up in their basements, talking nonsense for far too long on the internet. People tend to spiral like this, following extremist pipelines, but even so, I just have to wonder why the Kuamu administration has been seemingly contributing to this narrative by–”_

What the fuck–

Why are they even mentioning this _at all,_ America groused and began texting the FDL again. _'_ _What do we even pay them for?!'_

_Then sirens blipped behind and he got stopped by police over his obvious texting and driving._

* * *

**The White House – Oval Office**

“This _better_ not be about the election.” America griped as soon as he entered, door banging open loudly with a mild push. “ _Or_ the war.”

“Alfred!” Kuamu looked at him, brows dipping. “I called you–”

“I _don’t_ want to go back to that fucking desert.” America interrupted, maintaining a persistent glare at the window.

“Alfred–” His boss tried again.

“I’m just _guessing_ here because you _never_ really call me for anything important that isn’t _that,_ so I’m just cutting it short by getting to the point so we both can save time, hm?”

“Alfred, be quiet for a _second.”_

The order made him mind screech to a halt, and he stopped, rolling his eyes, mouthing ‘fine’ with a hand-wave.

Annoying his presidents could be a nice stress-relief… _Too bad he was ordered not to call him ‘Kad’, haha._

His boss relaxed considerably. “We just need to talk about a few things, concerning what we’ll do about… well, all of _that.”_ He gestured vaguely at nothing. "Your secrecy."

“Right…” America scoffed. “Speaking of that, heard the _news_ mentioning that public officials were getting emails and tweets about a certain _conspiracy._ Now what the _hell_ were they thinking?” America wondered, almost jokingly.

 _“That_ is just the thing,” Kuamu sighed, crossing his arms. “something ended up being said because _Representatives_ are getting these too, and _they_ don't actually know what's going on.”

“Well, shit.” America nudged his chin.

Representatives aren’t formally introduced to him… and if they’re getting conspiratory messages with images attached, no doubt they’d notice that the odd _intern_ who sometimes meanders around Congress and talks to people 'way above his station’ on a not-so-regular basis… was actually the same guy from those pictures…

Even they could get curious…

America could only imagine what the hell they could be thinking, and sharing around their families…

“Nothing to be done, I guess.” America smiled. “Things are bad enough on that end, I think we’ll just have to deal with it as it comes.”

Kuamu didn’t look a bit amused, tapping his desk. “I can’t say you _helped,_ with how much you’ve downplayed the situation, for _years.”_

America backed away, hands up in mock-amity. “Hey, hey, I just didn’t want you guys to go on a politicking spree on ‘my behalf’.” He gestured with air-quotes. “Like, enough with the SOPA-like shit, y’know?” He laughed awkwardly.

Kuamu stared, still plainly unamused. “So, you’ve ignored it entirely. Even though it’s not _about_ you, it’s about every single _one_ of you nations… Don't you think this is a _little_ irresponsible on your part?”

“Eeeh, what can I say, I don’t really trust politicians, sooo…”

“Is that so…” That caught his attention, and America could see a glint in his eyes, and America could _guess_ he wanted to ask something a little different, his attention briefly wandering before returning. “Well, either way, now we have Representatives getting ideas, and I don’t have to tell you what _that_ entails.”

America rolled his eyes as he began to wander around the room in a loose circle, not straying too far from the desk. “But _why_ did this appear on the news in the first place? Y’all just made things worse.”

“Ask the FDL.”

“Aah, yeah, watch them ask for more money now, gee…”

That actually made his boss chuckle a little. “Alright… Now,” He returned back to seriousness. “I want _you_ to go talk to Carter and Connelly about this, and work out a way to calm everyone down. _Especially_ Connelly.” Kuamu said pointedly.

America snickered knowingly. “Oh, yeah, wouldn’t want the House organizing along Party lines to attack you over ‘keeping secrets’, huh?”

“Alfred, this is serious.”

“I’ll say.”

It’s not that his president was wrong; that was _exactly_ what was about to happen, probably.

Since the president was a Democrat, the Republicans were the ones likely to get off their asses to do something once there was blood in the water, to form a coalition of attack against the other side, asking pointed questions and making a total fuss – ignorant of the fact that _both_ parties were in on it, just in the Senate and not the House.

Just the usual bullshit party politics… although one that could, unfortunately, drag the nation along for the ride.

America would hate if they started asking too many questions and tried to drag this 'intern' for some kind of _Hearing…_

_That’d be… very… unfortunate._

Not to mention, there were probably plenty of powerful people _outside_ of that who’d _love_ to throw wrenches around to get some blackmail material, since they always seem a little too curious…

So, although America acted like his boss was being dramatic, he knew damn well that this was looking like trouble in the future…

“That’s fine, I was already going to talk to them…” America muttered. “Although, I have to wonder, if it gets too bad and Representatives start dunking on you, what are you going to do?” He smiled perceptively.

Kuamu didn’t react much further than giving him the usual tired look. “I don’t think it will get so bad that it’ll affect me or the government’s ratings.”

America laughed out loud. “Like it’d make a difference; approval ratings are in the gutter already. I’m talking about your in-party approval. The House Dems don't know anything either.”

Kuamu’s eyes narrowed. “Once you talk to Carter, he’ll calm everyone down.” He sat back, fingers intertwined. “The media won’t mention this, ever again…?” He gave America an askance look of confirmation.

America nodded. “Yeah, I’ll let the FDL know…”

“Right, and then this will be forgotten quickly enough, how about it?”

“Seems about right…” America sighed. He did feel a little disappointed, to be honest. Like it was just delaying the inevitable. “I guess I’ll stay out of Capitol Hill for a while, how sad!” He grinned.

He’s always eager to avoid his government these days, and avoiding Representatives was as good an excuse as any.

Then his phone rang, and he turned to check, expecting his agent with news on the ‘stalkers’, but instead, seeing a number from a citizen-friend from _New Mexico…_ and America sighed in annoyance as he read the message.

_Damn Mexico… Worst fucking timing._

_Trouble at the border… Yet another cartel chopper taking potshots at his border-guards for fun again… It didn’t sound like an emergency, so it was probably over, but it wouldn’t hurt to Jump over there and check…_

_Maybe call Mexico, yell at him for a while…_

“Hey, Alfred, before you leave,” His boss interrupted his thoughts, standing and walking around the desk. “I just want to remind you that it’s campaign year. Remember to behave, alright?” Kuamu gave him a tired look.

America always marvels, with a certain sense of somber dread, at how fast his presidents age these days…

“Oh, c'mon.” America huffed, pulling back. “I’m not allowed to interfere with political campaigns, I _know_ that.” He was annoyed that the man felt the need to _remind_ him.

Kuamu crossed his arms, expression skeptical. “It’s not about interfering directly, I’m talking about what’s in there.” He pointed at America’s forehead.

America leaned away further. “That’s something I can’t help you with… I have my own thoughts…” He mumbled.

“Yes, I realize that…” Kuamu fumbled with his hands a bit. “But… I know things have been difficult, and I know you’ve been feeling upset about all of it, but, uh…”

America narrowed his eyes, shoulders dipping, waiting for the point.

“But… you understand that we _do_ care about you, and that despite it all, we want you to be okay, right?” A hand on his shoulder made America sigh deeply. “I understand it’s difficult, but please, just… _cooperate_ with us, alright?”

…Goddamn it… The care felt… genuine enough… but there was a _lot_ America wanted to rant and rave about… But he felt like it wouldn’t make much of a difference by now, as no one really listens to his concerns, always giving an excuse or other…

Before he knew it, he’d be going abroad to fight again, his concerns totally dismissed as irrelevant or unjustified; there was no point in arguing.

So, he just shrugged. “Sure… Whatever you say, boss.” He smiled awkwardly and waved his phone. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I got places to be…”

A knock on the door, just in time, and America walked away, opening and finding a surprised VP, Hertz, halfway into knocking again. “Uuh…”

America raised an eyebrow. “Knock yourself out.” He walked past him and the Secret Service agents outside without another word.

Let them gossip about him, try to figure out what he could be thinking, and where he was edging the voters to… _Politics and politicians, so typical._

_Most of them are their power, position, money, and agenda first, America second._

_If they didn’t align, then… well, that's just too bad._

* * *

**Beijing – 9AM**

China breathed deeply in and out, slowly adjusting his posture as the wind picked up.

Nothing like _Tai Chi_ in the morning, especially after a long week away from home, he thought with a smile.

Dealing with other nations was usually a little stressful, but China has been remarkably patient with those youngins these days.

He spun on his feet and reared close to the marble railing around the wide balcony of his residence, swiftly sliding atop it and following along the narrow space with adept, controlled steps, before doing a smooth flip with his hands on its surface, hanging upside down for just a second longer, before flipping back on his feet.

He stretched his arms and hands, sighing as he lowered them slowly. Nice and easy.

There were no words to describe how utterly relaxing and _reinvigorating_ this exercise was to him…

On its own, it wouldn’t, but when so many of his people were also practicing this morning activity with him, it did its magic on his old soul – kids in their schools training so they could graduate, working kids at a break from their jobs, retired kids in the park to relax.

A mandatory exercise, shared for the healthy benefit of both people and nation.

The wind picked up once again, like the very heavens were testing him and trying to push him off the edge, but China didn’t lose his balance and chuckled at it, before descended back to his balcony.

A good meal was in order now. China went back inside, large windows illuminating the entire penthouse, and he skipped towards his kitchen to grab a big assortment of quality rice, egg rolls, chicken to put together in a big dish, with a side of wonton soup and noodles…

He turned on the flat-screen to listen to the news while cooking as well. It droned on in the background.

When he sat on the table to watch, it was still on the same topic, which China stared dully at. “…So the 'Winter Melon' child is still at it…” China mumbled, sipping his soup first.

He could see the camera showing one of the Tai Chi dojos as the anchor-lady spoke.

China hummed as he listened. How disappointing and embarrassing for him… One of his young humans was still actively disrespecting China, both in soul and country, by wandering around and beating young Tai Chi masters with that _crass_ Western-style…

And for what? For fame? Or for some _nonsensical_ sense of… whatever excuse the Westerners had to _let_ their own citizens embarrass them in public like this…

China sighed gloomily as he continued his meal.

Although, the more he thought about it, the more that annoyed him…

The _Great Rejuvenation_ was a movement to keep China healthy and strong, it was about instilling that bond with the youngest, it was about teaching them something that was uniquely homey and _Chinese._

That was Tai Chi. It was uniquely _his._

And some young miscreant just up and decides it’s not good enough?

China scoffed.

Maybe he ought to do something about it after all.

China smiled at the thought. He’s been meeting more and more of his people in public these days, not being so obvious and overt, but still just doing enough to leave a lasting impression.

Along with that, he’d met some of the young masters as well. That could be his way _in._

But _should_ he…? China hummed to himself, tapping the inside of the bowl with the chopsticks.

That’d be a decidedly _public_ event.

The other nations would eventually hear about it, and they’d be somewhat annoyed, of course, but…

China couldn’t just let this slide, could he? He had a human publicly insulting him and his identity, despite all the barriers the State kept putting forth, and despite all the discouragement he’s received from his fellows…

_Such a bad citizen… His low score in the system should be a warning that he was doing something wrong._

But the Winter Melon child just doesn’t stop challenging young masters to fights… as if attempting to systematically humiliate each one in front of the whole country, and all the while _refusing_ to listen to reason and think about _China's_ own well-being.

Someone who was a _real_ master had to beat some sense into him, right? And if the whole country had to see it, well, maybe that'd be for the best. China nodded sagely at the thought.

With all the rumors flying around online, this should be a good show.

He picked up his phone from the counter and began sending messages to the required people who’d help him make this work.

Nothing outrageous would happen, of course. It’s something fairly normal, considering the time scale. Only a nation disciplining one of his humans. Nothing so odd about it.

If anything, it'd be fairly _tame_ compared to what usually happens. And why, considering how offensive this human was being, China was being incredibly merciful and patient in response.

He's sure this human _child_ will learn a valuable lesson then.

* * *

**Hong Kong – 9AM**

_…_

_‘I’m a Gaian. Ask me anything.’_

Leon tapped the _enter_ key, hesitating.

The screen remained still for the last 10 _hours_ since he sat in front of his laptop. He sighed and backed away again, closing the window for the third time this week.

Another night of pondering and procrastinating. Nothing accomplished.

_Oh, well, not today, then…_

Leon stood and moved about his small apartment, gathering his things, changing clothes, tying his hair in a short tail, and making sure his books were in his backpack, which he hoisted around his shoulder.

On his way to the door, he glanced at the computer again, before turning away with a tired huff. He’d try again later…

He grabbed his keys, his beanie, and his red-lensed glasses, putting them on as he walked out and left his apartment.

Outside, he turned to walk out of the enclaved patio of his apartment complex, glancing around at his people on their day-to-day course past him.

He stopped at a food stand right around the garage of his apartment, just for a cup of tea, and exchanging some friendly banter with the nice fellow who owned it.

Then, down the slope leading to the main street and towards the university.

A few minutes later, he was stopped by some girls, asked to take a picture of them in front of a statue by the stairs of a temple. _Tourists…_

Another few minutes, and he helps an old lady carry a few boxes around her shop.

Then another few, and he climbs onto a big wall to grab a cat for its owner.

Another, and he chases a petty robber who snatched a guy's wallet on the walkway across the highway.

As usual, he’d probably keep finding other things to do, and so, to avoid being late, he called a cab.

It’s not that helping out a few citizens made him miss class… It’s that he spent too much time pondering at home and was late anyway.

_Maybe he should have just grabbed his motorbike… But it was such a nice day out…_

And he _did_ want some time to think, no…?

He chats with the cab driver instead.

 _“You kids sure are lively these days, ey? You part of the protests?”_ The man chuckles after Leon informed him of his destination.

And Leon couldn’t help but grin a little hesitantly, adjusting his glasses. _“You could say that…”_

He turned to his phone, not quite wanting to read the message he knew was waiting for him there, and just read the news instead.

Once at the university’s main street, he headed to the main courtyard. On his phone, he avoided the very glaring icon indicating a new message from _a certain old man_ and just went straight to his friend group.

No conversation happening, which means they met up already.

> Good morning, y’all. **:** **英** **Lion**
> 
> **幸** **Jiāo:** U R LATE!
> 
> **Big書** **:** Again? ㄟ(▔ ,▔)ㄏ
> 
> **Xīnguāng:** Helping old ladies and rescuing cats again? (=^▽^=)
> 
> Aaah, you caught me. ╮(￣▽￣"")╭ **:** **英** **Lion**
> 
> Also chased thief for a wallet. **:** **英** **Lion**
> 
> **Xīnguāng:** Please don't get hurt???
> 
> **Big書** **:** You’re a gift to the community, kiddo. ヾ(^▽^*)))
> 
> **幸** **Jiāo:** We’re under the big tree. Hurry up or no cookies for u, good delinquent!
> 
> ╭(°A°`)╮ **:** **英** **Lion**
> 
> **Xīnguāng:** I’ll keep some for u, u deserve it! ╭(╯3╰)╮

Despite himself, Leon chuckled softly, speeding up to walk across campus.

Man, he hated lying to them… He should be used to lying to humans, but… considering that two of his current friends liked to hang around _that forum,_ and one other only had some pragmatic skepticism…

Well.

Leon plays the total, unrelenting skeptic, and the last few months have left him with a little bit of guilt…

At this point, he’s been considering just telling them, but he hesitated and struggled every time he got an opportunity…

He’s never been in a situation where his friends could potentially find out without his input…

Just a quick look at his golden eyes, and the jig would be up for them. Or maybe, if someone caught a picture of him and posted it there… That was never an issue before.

He’s been giving the excuse that he’s _totally_ colorblind, just for a justification to constantly wear glasses with bright red lenses under the guise of them being color-correcting lenses…

_And to think these days, their eyes were the biggest giveaway…_

At the sight of his friends sitting on and over a yard table, he approached with quiet steps. “Yo.” Leon lifted a hand just as they looked.

Lucky Jiāo quite immediately stood, lifting a box away from everyone. “No cookies for you!”

Xín stood after him to grab it. “No! He’s a hero!” He– _No, 'she', he corrected his nation-brain–_ was still too short and just waved fruitlessly.

“It’s bad behavior to be late all the time!”

Leon scoffed and sat next to Big Shū, the tallest of them, who cleaned his glasses with his shirt as he watched in bemusement, then just offered another nearly empty box. “One left here. For you.”

“Thanks.” Leon didn’t mind, grabbing it and munching calmly.

“Don’t reward him!” Lucky Jiāo shouted. “He missed a class again! He’s jeopardizing his future!”

Xín gave up on the box, huffing with hands on her hips. “But his grades are great!”

Big Shū also contributed. “And helps people out, it’s worth something, no?”

“Missed class!”

“It’s not the end of the world, calm down!”

Lucky Jiāo hissed like a cat, before giving up and taking the box to Leon. “You win this one…”

Leon nodded, accepting it. “A win without doing anything too. Thanks.”

“Don’t be smug, wonder-boy.”

Ah, yeah, he does look younger than everyone. A ‘15-year old wonder-boy’ amongst the 18, 19-year old kids… with actual problems none of them could even imagine.

_He’s been wondering what it would be like to be honest and have someone to listen to his real problems… He doesn’t have any constant presence to talk to these days, not personally at least…_

_But then again, humans wouldn’t understand, would they…?_

Leon sighed, stopping halfway the last cookie. _It sure sucks, doesn’t it…?_

Xín noted it right away. “Hm? What’s wrong?”

Lucky Jiāo sat on his other side. “What, your old man did something shitty again…?”

Leon frowned, finishing his cookie. “Well, _yeah,_ but that’s not–” He stopped, clicking his tongue in frustration, finding himself unable to talk with the secrecy in-between. 

_That’s not even half of the issue… Everything that’s been weighing on his mind, he couldn’t share with humans… Not normally…_

_Maybe they wouldn’t understand, but maybe it’d be nice to have someone normal to talk to…_

_Of course, he could visit Taiwan to talk, but then having to explain to the old man what he was doing there later was always such a damn headache…_

_Maybe it’s just the stress talking…_

A hand pats his back. “Hey, you can always talk to us.” Big Shū said. “We’re friends, remember?”

Xín nodded in front of him, leaning closer. “Yeah, you’ve been so down since the protests! But whatever it is, we want to help, right?” She lightly slapped Lucky Jiāo on the arm.

He shushed her. “Yeah, _if_ we can. I-I mean… You can always crash with one of us if you need to stay away from your place… i-if that’s the problem, of course…” He shrugged awkwardly.

Leon nodded in resignation, standing; not quite liking the emotionally-loaded vibe but at the same time appreciating it for their intentions.

_Maybe he could… seek some council…_

_Better sooner than later…_

_He’s known them for a year now, he’s their nation, so the trust is real, he can tell…_

_They’d probably notice the truth eventually anyway… so…_

“I guess… So, maybe we need to talk then, because it’s a little complicated… So maybe we can meet at my apartment.” Leon turned back to them, stepping back as he adjusted his backpack over his shoulder.

They blinked in confusion. Big Shū lifted a hand to speak first. “Are your folks okay with it? You said they didn’t like visits…”

Leon nodded, glancing down. He could feel his cheeks burning a bit over the lie. “Yeah… I actually live alone. Sorry for lying…” He took another step back at their surprised looks. “I’ll meet you there, after my night classes…” He gestured behind with a thumb and turned away, trying not to focus too much on how he left them with an uncomfortable sense of confused dread…

For the rest of the day’s classes, it was hard to focus, and he suddenly understood a little too well how normal people felt when they looked at a jumble of Law jargon in a huge book, because that’s exactly how he felt the entire time…

In between classes, he avoided his friends, and didn’t reply to their attempts to contact him.

He did tell them his address once before, but it’s been so many months since that he needed to reconfirm it as night fell.

Then he made his way back home, wishing he knew how to freaking _teleport_ like most nations…

_A Hop through Space, and he never quite managed to do it… Maybe he needed practice, but he never really felt the urgency to find the time… Maybe now would be the time…_

He grabbed a cab again, but stayed quiet the entire ride this time. He felt… _trepidation._

_Wait, really…? Was he really going to do this?_

_This was never a concern before…_

_But it wasn’t fair that he needed to be so alone, was it…?_

_He felt so childish… The older, more powerful nations probably didn’t feel this…_

Leon sighed once he paid the driver and left the car.

He walked up the slope, not so surprised to find his friends by the food stand, sitting on one of the tables set in front of it with some tea and eaten snack packets.

Once they spot him, Leon almost grimaced, partially regretting his decision; he rubbed the back of his neck and jerked his head to the building.

Their concern and dread were… both comforting and nerve-wracking…

In the elevator, he waited until they reached him.

“Leon…!” Xín called quietly with some mild urgency. “What’s going on with you…? What happened?”

“Privacy…” He muttered. The elevator opened and he walked in, clicking the last button to the top floor as everyone piled in. It wasn’t a big elevator… “Sorry…” He muttered once again as the door closed.

“It’s cool, man…” Lucky Jiāo muttered back, because the space was indeed a bit cramped.

The last floor was only his.

Once the door opened, it was silent.

Leon pushed himself out and walked without looking back, towards his door, unlocking it quietly.

“Wow…” Xín whispered. “The whole top floor…?”

“Is now the time to ogle…?” Lucky Jiāo whispered back, annoyed.

Big Shū was the closest to Leon and also the one watching him more carefully. With a lot of concern, too.

Once inside, after taking his shoes off, Leon turned on the lights and dropped his things, steeling his will. _Alright, now’s the time…_

_It wouldn’t stay a secret for long, right? He knows there are some other nations who are worried about it…_

_The old man is making preparations already and Leon knows he's planning for something…_

_Leon might as well start too…_

He walked past the couch and glanced through the curtains, just as a distraction.

“Hey, Leon…” Big Shū spoke quietly, hesitantly, sitting on the couch. “Could I ask why you said you lived with your folks…?” The tone was soft enough that Leon could guess he just didn’t want to spook him.

Leon scoffed under his breath. “The old man lives in Mainland… I don’t really have a mother…” He turned back, fiddling with the hem of his jacket. “So… I just don’t know how to talk about this, it’d be the first time I’ve done it… I don’t know how to say it…”

Xín had sat on the couch too, while Lucky Jiāo was sitting on the couch’s arm. “Well,” Big Shū began with a small shrug. “start with the truth, I suppose.”

Xín nodded. "Whatever's bothering you, you can at least have someone listen."

Part of him wondered sometimes if they actually knew the whole time and just didn’t say a thing to preserve his dignity…

“Yeah, I guess…” So Leon sat on the round coffee table, right in front of them. “…first, uuh, I’m not colorblind, that was a lie too, sorry.” Amidst their confusion, he took off the glasses and beanie. “I just needed an excuse to hide _these_ all the time.” He gestured to his eyes.

But, no, no, they didn’t seem to know, and while Big Shū’s eyes only widened, Xín yelped sharply and backed away, and Lucky Jiāo stood belatedly and stepped back pointing. “Oh, what the…”

Leon sighed _hard_ , rolling his eyes. “C’mon… don’t make me regret this…” He leaned an elbow on his knee, chin resting on his palm.

“U-Uhm…!” Lucky Jiāo stuttered, approaching only a bit to see, as if confirming things, then backing way again. “Leon, y-you–”

Xín leaned further away. “Is… Is that real…?” She focused on his eyes. “Not a joke?”

Leon crossed his arms, foot tapping. “Yeah, not a joke…”

“A-Are you serious…?! You’re one of th– one of _them?! Holy fucking shit–!”_ Lucky Jiāo pointed, hand shaking slightly. “I-I-I thought you were just gonna confess to being gay or something, not thiiis!”

 _Oh, boy…_ Leon grimaced, leaning away and pinching the bridge of his nose. He was hoping none of them would react like this…

But Big Shū got over his shock and stood. “Alright, let’s calm down!” He hissed at Lucky Jiāo and Xín. “Stop that, it’s _just_ an odd eye-color, I’m sure there’s enough prejudice and superstition involved…! Leon is our friend, so don’t use that whole _nonsense_ as an excuse to–”

Leon narrowed his eyes and stood. “I was born in 1841.” He stated firmly, his tone shocking them into silence. “It’s not ‘superstition’, it’s a thing, in my family, and in many others…” His voice faltered, and he turned away. “Aah, _stupid…_ I shouldn’t have _done_ this…” He slapped a hand over his eyes, words rasping under his breath. “You can _leave…_ if you feel like you’re in danger or something… That’s fine, I get it…”

“Leon…”

_Great, he stupidly ruined a nice friendship…_

“Leon, I-I’m sorry!” Xín stood, approaching with a bow. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me, I shouldn’t have reacted like that…!”

Leon blinked. “You did nothing wrong… It’s fine.”

He glanced at Lucky Jiāo instead, _he looked so torn, frozen,_ just as Xín stood, and there was a glimmer of tears. “No, no! I’m still sorry!!” She bellowed, a little shaky, but it felt honest and hopeful… “…I-If it helps, your eyes are really pretty, by the way…”

And Leon stepped back, feeling a little awkward about the acknowledgment. “Uh-huh…”

Lucky Jiāo hesitated, looking less fearful, and more concerned instead. “I-It’s just… That’s… _174 years…!”_ He hissed fretfully; Leon could see the sweat, just pure anxiety… “W-We’re just kids here!!”

Big Shū still seemed a little stuck at the admission, which he knew _felt_ honest.

Leon frowned. “Don’t treat me like I’m some ancient thing.” He said, a little petulantly, and a little offended. “I’m younger than I look, as far as everyone else is concerned. I’m a _kid_ too.”

Big Shū sighed, ruffling his hair. “I-I’m sorry, but… a… are you serious…?”

“Hm.” Leon nodded.

But Big Shū’s shoulders dipped, and he looked at him with an exhausted posture. “Okay…? H-How about some _proof?_ I mean… I don’t know what you expect me to say…! You know I never _really_ believed any of that forum stuff…! This is just nuts! I–”

Lucky Jiāo actually glared at him instead. “There’s _plenty_ of proof…! I showed it to you!”

Big Shū grimaced. “And _I_ said, _‘Photoshop’!”_

“Well, clearly not!” Lucky Jiāo waved at Leon.

Xín looked back and forth anxiously before turning to Leon. “Please don’t fight…” She mumbled meekly.

Leon rolled his eyes again. “Would healing a big injury in a minute count for something?”

Big Shū sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose under the glasses. “I-I… I guess… But–”

Leon walked towards the open kitchen without another word.

“Wow, wow, wait a second, where are you going …?!”

“It’s _fine.”_ Leon muttered, grabbing a common knife from the drawer. The small serrated blade would do.

“Wha– don’t cut yourself to prove a point!” Big Shū screeched in disbelief, _finally_ raising his voice, approaching him like a reproachful parent to stop him and grabbing his hand. “Don’t cut yourself, stupid!”

Lucky Jiāo and Xín watched, wide-eyed.

“But it’ll be fine.” Leon tried to amend.

“I don’t’ care! This is _not_ right…!” Big Shū hissed angrily, taking the knife off his hand and tossing it back in the drawer.

Leon sighed in disappointment. “Sorry it got to this, I… I don’t know what else to do to prove anything to you… Ah…” He stopped.

“What…?”

Leon blinked. “Maybe I could have shown some old physical pictures I have stored…”

Big Shū gaped. “So, hurting yourself is unnecessary…?”

“I guess. Sorry… I forgot.”

“Forgot?!”

At least, Big Shū relaxed a bit…

Leon did then leave to scrounge around in his room, finding an old box he kept in the closet, full of random things from the past where he kept a small box of pictures.

Old things from the late 1800’s, when Arthur first got ahold of one of the first commercially available camera services to get Leon’s first picture… It was kinda faded by now, but their faces were still pretty clear.

One of the two of them. Leon already looked like a 6-year old kid, decked in formal British clothes, together with his adoptive dad from Britain.

On the back, the faded ink read _1888, Leon Kirkland, 4dc.o.,_ with Arthur’s obvious handwriting.

He handed it his friends who followed and were peeking in, not quite wanting to intrude. “It’s probably the oldest one I have here… Cameras weren’t really commercially available before that, and Arthur was personally antiquated, so…”

Big Shū’s eyes widened softly, but he seemed to focus mostly on the picture’s texture, touching lightly. “This… it’s _really_ old…”

Lucky Jiāo gaped next to him. “T-That’s the guy…! I saw on the forum’s archives! T-The guy from Britain…!”

Leon sat on the bed. “Yeah… he raised me.”

The picture was turned over to see the written words.

Xín inhaled quietly. “’Leon’, it’s your actual name…” She glanced at him.

“The English name Arthur gave me, yeah…”

“So he’s… you dad?”

“Adoptive dad, yeah…”

Big Shū frowned. “…What’s ‘dc’?”

“…Decades.” Leon droned, tapping his foot. “…I was…” He breathed in to admit it again. “4-decades old in that picture, specifically 47 years… Not much older than a baby for Arthur and everyone.” He shrugged.

“47…” Lucky Jiāo mumbled in disbelief.

Silence in the room. “And… how old is… ‘Arthur’, now…?”

Leon hummed. “…About 109-decades old… A proper adult age, I suppose, his kids are just in their 20’s and 30’s…”

More silence. “What about… your old man…?”

Leon felt himself stilling, and he stared back, unflinching. “…About 300-decades old, if I were to guess… Maybe 400, if what he says is true… He’s _probably_ the oldest living thing in the world…”

Big Shū glanced up from the picture, focusing closely on Leon, while his other two friends still processed. “So… You’re not… You’re not joking, or pulling a prank. You’re serious…?”

Leon frowned, crossing his legs. “Yeah. I’m not really human… Sorry.” He glanced away for a moment. “I didn’t mean to lie, I… I’m just not really allowed to _talk_ about it, so I never did…”

And while Lucky Jiāo still hesitated, _and not out of disbelief,_ Xín approached to literally hug Leon, whose eyes widened. “Don’t worry, I won’t treat you differently! Even if you’re not a human, we’re still friends!”

Leon huffed with a small smile, hugging back lightly. _Really… Humans can be so weirdly nice sometimes…_ “Thanks…”

Xín moved to sit next to him instead, hugging his arm, while Big Shū sighed and sat on the other side, an arm over Leon’s shoulder to pull him a little close for a side hug. “You’re just… I don’t even know _what_ to call you for this stunt…”

Then, they turn to Lucky Jiāo, the only one left. 

He blinks at the attention, startled. “W-What…”

“You’re the holdout.” Xín pouted petulantly, arms crossing, still holding Leon’s.

Lucky Jiāo stared, still hesitating, but it was no longer hostile or fearful… Leon could tell. “So… You’re not, uh… some kind of _lizard_ ruling the world?”

Xín glared, and Leon chuckled under his breath. “I’m sure some _wish_ they could rule the world… No lizard, though, I’m warm-blooded. As you know.”

Lucky Jiāo gave him a slightly suspicious look, with a small spark of amusement. “But you’re not in _charge_ of anything…?”

“Dude… I’m barely in charge of my own life.” Leon sighed. “I’m just a kid, like I said…”

Xín stood and pulled him impatiently. “Just hug it out already! Leon is Leon!”

Lucky Jiāo put up a meager effort, not really trying to resist, and Leon too relented and let Xín have her group-hug.

“Uuugh… Can’t believe thiiiis…” Lucky Jiāo mumbled, but it least, the trepidation was mostly gone.

…

Quiet lo-fi music and pizza with friends all near him under blankets by the coffee table in his apartment turned out to be a lot better than Leon imagined…

He’d always imagined it’d be fun, although he didn’t think he’d be answering questions about himself instead of just talking nonsense like he imagined… At least now he could talk about his real problems and dilemmas.

That part wasn’t the most fun, it made him nervous, but… it was nice to not be _alone_ in his empty place for once, and it was nice to have friends who listened…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, don't accuse me of partisanship, I'm not American and I hate party-systems in general. If anything, see any of the partisan BS as critique to partisan BS in its entirety, independently of who was mentioned (although, I currently have different opinions on both US parties... Don't ask, it's just to let you know I have biases here too).  
> I want to touch a little on THAT particular issue, concerning US, a certain candidate, and America as a character, and I want to try and get through it as neutrally/realistically as possible. But that's for way later... >.>
> 
> So here, I jumpstarted a few different plots. 
> 
> I want to eventually write a more detailed World Meeting where the characters aren't seemingly just wasting time and money, and actually doing something, because I want nations to fill in the basic position of universal representatives of their respective countries, like ambassadors of sorts, and I wanted to formalize that into a useful position. But for now, what they do in those meetings is a little vague. I have a plot for this, eventually, just not in 2015. (I intended to jump to 2016 for this next plot, but I changed my mind, there's still more to happen in 2015 yet, because 2016 is going to be quite wild, with not just US elections and Brexit, but also the Olympics, which I have a specific headcanon for, and also what I'm most excited about :3)
> 
> But America has an interesting plot I want to follow, concerning the fact that half of his government doesn't really know who he is, which is a conflict I was interested in, because to old-school nations, it could be seen as a consequence of America's New World idealism of a largely popular government that isn't (supposed to be) all populated by noble elites who are in on the secret, and a lot of other New World nations who followed his lead would be having similar issues, too. It should be a stroke of irony in a way. So Germany isn't the only nation who'll have trouble this year. There's still more to come.  
> (Also, that thing with Mexico? That actually happened, and I find it both funny and weird, but also kinda terrifying that cartels have that much power... I wanna go a little into Mexico's situation, I have a reeeally cool headcanon for him :3) (also-also, no I don't wanna talk about election and honestly, neither does America, especially in early 2015 before things started to go crazy lol)
> 
> Then I went a little to China to start that plot, and the event it's based on is a real event, but I won't get into that. Some people may be aware of what 'Winter Melon' means, or some may recognize the circumstances mentioned. >_> I'll continue that in the next chapter. But the 'Great Rejuv' movement is a thing too, and I wanted to get a little into the headspace of a character like China, who thinks that the collective good is waaay above individual rights, and I still don't want to paint him as cruel or villain-like. Just... a little too pragmatic and collectivist and jaded, if not simply a 'good parental-nation' in his own eyes. :x
> 
> And then Hong Kong! I don't want to go crazy yet on what's been happening in HK today (I have my opinions, I'm sure many have too), but I like the idea of a young HongKong trying to live almost normally like a civilian, struggling as a bit of a kid with human friends, and the new challenge that the lessening secrecy brings to his life. I like the teen-drama mixed with the supernatural aspect of his current situation, and I always wanted to write a scene like this, where a young nation struggles to tell his human friends that he's not human at all. But also, that AMA HongKong was thinking about opening... We'll get back to that eventually.
> 
> Also yes, Xín is trans, she's based on a real person who I find _absolutely_ adorable, she's like a real-life femboy XD and the way she talks is literally the cutest thing. But the main thing I want to eventually get into there, it's something concerning my headcanons for how the nations' 'sixth sense' works. I wanted to make it as rudimentary as possible in a way that was absolutely useful in the past, but that in modern times, is bound to give them a bit of trouble concerning these specific cultural issues. It's like a 'your nation-brain is telling you one thing, but your eyes are telling you another; oh no, what do you do?' kind of conflict, which I think is an interesting thing to explore for nations, but that'll be left for the future, 2015 is probably too early...? Maybe 2016 is the one. <:D 
> 
> But anyway, that should be it for now. :) I'm pretty sure I'm forgetting something VERY important, but oh well.
> 
> [Hey, I got a Gab account. Twitter sucks.](https://gab.com/Ms_YYK) For random videos I find, funny or serious, memes, excerpts from what book I'm reading, and random thoughts.


	13. How Did It Come to This, Grey-Man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13 is so cursed, I slapped that **DUBIOUS MORALITY** and **DUBIOUS ETHICS** tags right there.
> 
> I'm going balls-deep. Probably biting more than I can chew. Uuuh, **content warning,** y'all.
> 
> But let's see how _this_ madness goes. *Nervous sweating*
> 
> [Hey, I got a Gab account. Twitter sucks.](https://gab.com/Ms_YYK) For random videos I find, funny or serious, memes, excerpts from what book I'm reading, and random thoughts.

**39 Found a funny in a Japanese forum** (self.GaiaIsReal)  
submitted 1 hour ago * by MinkMan99

Guess what? Some guy posted that he intended to go straight to a place the Japanese Gaian usually is and ask a bunch of questions.

Why?

Because he wants to draw a manga about it. lol

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> ♦ [-] **meme_miner** 12 points 44 minutes ago
> 
> WHEEEEZE  
>  **permalink embed save report reply**
> 
> **10 more replies**

**19 more replies**

* * *

**Lyon – 11 AM**

France awoke with the birds in his hotel room, light streaming through the windows, feeling the warmth all around.

The warm bed, silk sheets, and also the living body he still held in his arms.

The drowsiness dissipated gradually and he leaned a bit against the human woman with a sigh, before he sat up, stretching his neck. A quick look at the digital clock on the glass nightstand made him frown.

 _He might have drunk a little too much the night before, to rise so late after dawn… He doesn’t usually go this far with the wine…_ _But the last few weeks have been just so dreadful…_

_He needed some comfort…_

Here he was, another night with a human, then. Others would scold him for it, but France wasn’t the type to care about _their_ decency standards.

France yawned, and that roused the girl. He leaned back, lying against the pillow, and grabbed a cigarette from the nightstand, flicking a lighter as well.

He might as well since it numbed the human emotions he’d be dealing with; it helped him concentrate on his own without their full effect…

The girl turned, rubbing her eye, still a little careful about the makeup she still wore. She was young and pretty, and he hoped she wouldn’t get emotionally clingy…

She looked at him with bleary eyes and gave him a slightly dazed smile. “That was such a good night~” And she boldly reached with her arms, clinging to his waist.

_Too fast, he felt the fuzz of affection already…_

_Please, don’t, my dear._

France rolled his eyes with a small smile, emanating self-satisfaction, although he didn't reciprocate the touch. “Glad to hear it, _ma chéri~”_ He was confident in his prowess, but it was really less a statement on his skill, and more of an effect of this particular brand of intimacy in the end.

She was _his,_ so naturally, she’d enjoy it more easily.

It’s _very_ easy to enjoy this sort of thing with their own nation, considering how emotions and sensations can get so amplified with intimacy…

It probably felt extra intense for the human, and likely an experience they hadn’t felt before.

Which was why humans got _clingy_ afterwards, and he knew how _easy_ it was to _manipulate_ them after this sort of good time, and there’s also how _long_ they took to get over this experience and move on with the lives.

France knew that, therefore, he _shouldn’t_ do this. But honestly, as long as they’re in their early 20’s, he didn’t think he was compromising their future chances with any other partner…

_Even if they won’t find another human who can give them the same experience of human-nation intimacy…_

The girl would get over it.

So he sighed, exhaling smoke. “It was a pleasant night… So help yourself while you’re here. I’ll pay for everything when I check out.” France sat up, intending to leave her hold.

The nicotine dulled the shock a bit, thankfully. She sat up after him. “T-That’s great, uhm…” She hesitated, trying to think of an excuse or something to stall this. _Clingy, clingy._

France didn’t give her much of a chance to say anything further, sliding out of the bed to get his button-up shirt on the floor and putting it on. “We met yesterday, so please don’t take any offense, _ma chéri.”_ He said in a soft tone. “You’re absolutely lovely, but it _was_ a one-night stand.” Next, he picked up his underwear.

“I-I know that… I know, of course…” The girl mumbled, still not quite moving from the bed, clinging to the sheets and covering her chest with them. She looked _hopelessly_ lost. “It’s just– I–” And then _tears…_

France felt the negativity spiking despite the nicotine. _The smoke wasn’t enough for this one…_ He still felt a primal need to console and comfort.

So he caressed her cheek, trying not to focus too much on the emotional hurt and disappointment emanating from her. “…I’m sorry, _chér,_ but that’s just how it is…” He said, tone calm and soft. “We have to part ways, unfortunately.”

She whined, trying to wave the tears away so she wouldn't botch the make-up even further. “It’s okay, I’m okay, I-I don’t know what’s happening…!” She shook her head.

France stared dully at nothing, letting her hold his hand for comfort until the crying stopped.

She didn’t know what was happening, but he knew very well, and he’s past feeling guilty, this was a normal post-sex routine most of the time…

More conservative nations in Europe would decry his actions as ‘utterly immoral’ – _specifically, Austria, the worst of them when it comes to being intimate with humans –_ but then again, they’ve been saying this about France for centuries.

So, who cares…?

He just wanted to distract himself for a while…

And he’s been drowning in wine ever since he arrived from New York in a daunting attempt to smother the ugly feelings the latest tragedies brought forth.

His government demanded he take some time off, and they’re letting him drink and indulge his hedonistic impulses to his heart’s content.

In fact, they were _encouraging_ it.

Just… as they said… _‘don’t go crazy again, don’t let it consume you; just forget, forget, forget, come back to politics and news and mourning once your emotions are in check’._

_'Don’t. **kill**. anyone. else.'_

…Well, he couldn’t say ‘no’ to the chance to be _free,_ and with enough alcohol and tobacco in his body, he could at least _pretend_ to be human for a while so he didn’t have to deal with his _accursed nature_ driving him mad with fury _._

Let his government deal with it.

France dressed up, quickly cleaned his face with some cold water, ignoring his company, then grabbed his coat. “Thank you for the fun. Have a good life, ma belle.”

_That painful longing was familiar._

_Oh,_ he sighed once outside the room. _He broke her little heart and didn’t even look her in the face while doing it. Poor thing…_

It was not the first time, he’s used to it, and thus, he moved on right away.

As promised, he paid for however long she intended to stay and utilize the hotel’s services, and then left.

France rubbed his eye, still feeling a lingering hangover from the copious amount of wine he drank in the last few days, and he probably _looked_ like it.

He detested that with a passion, so he pulled his hood to not only hide the dark crescents under his eyes but also spare his vision the nearly-noon daylight. It was always embarrassing and discouraging to let his people see it, and even tourists seeing it was unpleasant.

Some water would fix it right up. He rubbed his face and he quickened his pace until he stopped at the nearest café, standing at the counter while he checked his wallet.

 _Most money went to fine wine… He’d have to ask his government for more,_ and the thought made him grimace in annoyance and he clicked his tongue.

“Can I help… youuu, uuuh… m-monsieur…?” A sharp twang of _doubt_ and _shock_ hit him unexpectedly, the voice drawling as soon as it did.

France blinked and looked up at the young cashier, raising an uninterested eyebrow, which made the cashier shudder for some reason. “A water, please.” He droned as if speaking to a child, because the kid seemed a little… rattled?

 _What? Was there something on his face?_ France tilted his head in mild confusion.

“R-Right…” The kid backed away, not quite taking his eyes off of him as he fetched the bottle.

The faint glimmer of sweat was immediately noticeable.

France didn’t _really_ want to know what _that_ was about, his sense of curiosity was just _dead_ at the moment, and he turned away to yawn.

As soon as he got his bottle, he passed the money and turned away, already guzzling it down for a few seconds and sighing in relief.

The hood fell back as he drank.

Primary need satiated, the relieving sensation quickly clearing his head and diminishing the wino signs on his face, hangover disappearing as if it was never there, and it made him feel _much_ better.

He turned back to the counter, tapping his jaw at the pastries on display. “Maybe I could get something here too…”

The previous spike of shock had gradually shifted to an anxious drum, France could almost hear the cashier’s heartbeat.

And what was up with that…? He seemed to be the only nervous citizen in the area…

France shook his head and leaned a little closer to the glass instead, trying to see what was most appetizing. As he browsed, however– “Uhm… m-monsieur…?”

“Hm…?” France still procured his next meal, only barely listening.

_He wasn’t holding any line, so what’s there to care about?_

“A-Are you going to order…?”

_Why was this boy so nervous? The answer was fairly obvious, now that he thought about it. He probably read about France’s immortal kind online and recognized the signs, and it scared him._

_Oh, lovely, it seems this was going to be a thing now…_

France sighed theatrically and stood straight with a coy smile. “No, nevermind. I’ll be going now.” _Since I make you so uncomfortable._

That’s just odd.

France massaged his temple and continued walking, sipping more water and trying to think, _where he’d go next? Maybe a restaurant? He should have eaten at the hotel, probably. He does want more wine… What should he do for the rest of today…?_

_…He could check the news, see how it’d make him feel, then maybe go back to Paris if it didn't rile him up too much. It’d be more responsible than waiting for his government to drag him back… But then again, he could also just keep enjoying himself until he had no choice but to go back. He wanted to use as much of his free time as possible, not cut it so short when he could simply prolong it…_

France shook his head as he followed the narrow sidewalk, glaring at his reflection in the river next to him.

Staying away from his nation-side was probably for the best, he didn’t like dealing with that, it was always so repetitive and annoying and painful– argh!

He gritted his teeth and sped up his pace, huffing at nothing in sight.

_He didn’t want to think about it. Not about what happened, not about his reaction, not about Germany getting into legal trouble, and definitely not about the mere possibility that France could ever face that too._

_No, he’d drown it all in wine and forget about it._

As he wandered invisibly past people and cars, past a trash can where he tossed the empty bottle, mindlessly debating with himself for maybe several minutes, even lighting up another cigarette. He eventually reached one of the bigger public squares.

A statue stood in the middle, still intact, and France sighed, stopping idly next to it. “So, Louis, how shall I waste my time today…?” He muttered while ignoring the few tourists left here at this hour.

Louis XIV’s statue naturally didn’t respond.

_A time of relaxation is all fine and good, but you should not be wasting so much of your precious time._

France could imagine he’d hear something like that. He grimaced, still unable to quell the dry amusement at the thought. _He’d just buy more wine and then find some company._

So, he headed to the nearest shopping district, a narrow road he could see just across the square.

 _Attention_ was suddenly on him.

“You there, stop.” A loud, authoritative tone commanded, steps approaching.

It made France stop out of confusion, and he turned, raising an eyebrow. Police officers…? He held his cigarette. “Oui?”

The two officers’ eyes widened, they stopped and hesitated, exchanging glances with each other before turning to France again. “Uh, what’s your name, monsieur?”

France stared, lips parting to provide such information, before he stopped. “Why would you need to know…?” He asked warily, quietly.

It was _beyond_ odd that he was being detained by state-agents of law enforcement, he couldn't even _remember_ the last time this happened, to be honest…

The two officers hesitate further. “W-Well, monsieur, you fit the description provided by a citizen nearby.”

France narrowed his eyes. “Description?” He tilted his head and took a deep breath of smoke. 

_He didn't feel like being detained._

_Surely, they felt that in their bones._

One of the officers gulped, the other seemingly forced himself to remain steadfast. _How brave of a state-agent to stand like this before the immortal embodiment of said state…_

The officer attempted to puff up to look taller. “Yes, of the vigilante who killed the three terror-suspects in Paris.”

That actually made France break his cool veneer, his eyes widened and he gaped. “Hein?” The cigarette nearly fell off his fingers.

He was being _stared_ at.

His off-balance moment seemingly emboldened the officers. “A tall, blond man, at least shoulder-length hair, mid-20’s, wearing a very similar hooded long-jacket.” The officer pointed. “It was seen in video, monsieur, and also reported by a citizen to have been seen around this area.”

_You’ve got to be joking…?!_

“Uuuh…” France didn’t know what to say to that, because he genuinely wasn’t really _expecting_ it. _There was a video?! He felt like he heard this before, but did he honestly forget about it after so many drinks?!_

_He went in and left so quickly, how in the world–_

The officers gave him tense, deadpan looks, as if France was just confirming his guilt by freezing. They were growing tense.

Then he regained control of himself, relaxing idly and shifting on his feet. “Why, I haven’t the _slightest_ clue what to say to that… There’s surely a mistake here, officer.” He offered lightly.

"Nevertheless…" That didn’t quite abate their suspicions, but they did hesitate. “…Monsieur, you’ll have to come with us to the station.”

France pouted ever so slightly, tilting his head innocently. “Well, yes, of course, officer. We _have_ to clear this up as soon as possible!” He gestured to himself theatrically as if the mere proposition of evading this offended him.

Which it did.

 _And_ _state-agents shouldn’t even BE allowed to draw this much attention to him, it wasn’t appropriate at all, isn’t that right, Louis?_ France gave another glance at the statue then headed towards the station, ignoring the stares.

He barely stepped past the officers before– “W-Wait a second there, monsieur…! Identify yourself first, right now!” a hand gripped his shoulder, and the man was _shouting._

_In front of tourists and citizens!_

France sneered and turned back with an indignant glare. “I have _no_ such obligation whatsoever.” He hissed dangerously. “We’ll go to the station _right now_ and this _misunderstanding_ will be promptly resolved there.”

The officers cowed immediately at his tone.

_Of course they did. Who did they **think** they were talking to?_

France huffed primly and walked off towards the station. "Come along, now." He ordered them, not stopping his stride, and they did follow, keeping a close eye on him but not daring to overstep their boundaries again.

The annoying clacks of cameras and the whispers of _'La Terrour…?'_ were probably going to become France's newest pet-peeves.

* * *

**Essex – 2 AM**

_It’s a dark, windy night,_ England noted.

He sighed, watching the gardens and the grassy field outside, seeing the long horizon until it reached the small town and its very weak glow in the distance.

Just a small royal space where his old Victorian home sat, a small manor if you will, and where he could enjoy some fresh air away from the crowded city…

His lone, distant manor in the countryside stood as the only source of light in the middle of apparently nowhere, with only a worn pastoral road decorated with lots of grass and stones by its edges that would eventually lead him back to Chelmsford.

It also led to other small towns that made him feel nostalgic.

England sat on a bench on the porch behind his manor with a book in his most casual clothing, only in the presence of his rose garden and a wandering fox napping with its head on his lap as he patted it.

His country was mostly asleep, but with its economic strength, he found himself wide awake at this hour, spending his time mostly reading, and once morning came, he’d tend to his garden, greet and feed some of the animals that took residence nearby his house, and then head back to visit his Queen.

A peaceful routine, one he tended to maintain these days.

_Beeeeep_

His brow twitched in annoyance. _Unless something interrupted him, of course._

England sighed, closing yet another novel and checking the phone. The fox stirred and yawned under his hand, before looking up at him with a snicker-like sound, tail wiggling.

The phone presented no good news. _An informant, sending an update…_

England pressed it against his chest mournfully and sighed again, deeper and gloomier. “It seems I have to do this, again…”

He kindly pushed the little fox off his lap, letting it hop to the floor and stretch as he stood, walking back inside.

The door was locked behind him, and he turned off the lights, stashing the book in the grand bookcase of his living room and going upstairs to his study to check the computer.

It was in a room where he kept much more sentimental things, usually not visible to any visitors…

He got the full message there. An address, pictures of the place, pictures of the suspects, a detailed message with all the sordid spying, confirming words from the informant, confirmation reports, so on and so forth.

England had naturally asked his informants, civilian or otherwise, to _triple-check,_ every time…

He trusted that they did so…

England committed the details to memory, before nodding and going to his dressing room to get the clothes and gear he’d need.

…By the time he was ready, 10 minutes had passed and he Hopped right out of his manor, skipping through space, and landed with a crouch atop an apartment building, inhaling deep to regain his breath.

_It’s jarring. Barely a few minutes ago, he was at peace, content._

_And now he’s here…_

In dark clothes and gloves, dark glasses with a mask and a cap, all soldier-like and covering most of himself to blend with the darkness above the streets, flipping a knife mindlessly as he watched.

This was the correct street, and this was the specified building he remembers clearly from the pictures. All very quiet at this hour, with only one car passing through in front of him.

England stood, the wind picking up.

He just had to find a way in.

Quietly eliminate the threats specified by his informants.

If any citizens are to be found in danger and saved, then contact an MI5 agent, and they’d do that quietly, no one none the wiser.

Quick and clean.

_…France was such an overly emotional fool…_

England scoffed and turned way, crossing the apartment’s roof to find a less visible venue.

France went and did something in public. Eliminating a threat not only after the _deed_ was done, but also in front of people like a delirious, unreasonable _lunatic._

England wasn’t like him, he wouldn’t lose his cool. In fact, he wouldn’t even _let_ the threats carry their deeds.

No…

England had his informants. He had his network. He’d find those actively planning to harm his citizens, and he’d end their plans swiftly.

His government was too slowed down by bureaucracy, and also too preoccupied with their image and their votes and their money… England didn’t quite trust them to get the job done cleanly…

_Do it yourself if you want it done right._

They’d botch it, something would slip through, his people would die for no reason, and… and he’d suffer like France.

No, England was going to be _smart_ about this…

On the other side of the roof, the buildings were divided by a narrow alleyway, and he could see windows and no lights.

He climbed down, holding on to window sills until he found the right floor. Looking inside, he stared dead-eyed at someone in a bed, turned away.

The room was mostly bare, sign of a recent arrival…

A tired, slow blink was all he could afford. With the information he had available on the individuals inside this particular apartment, there was little he was willing to let himself feel.

He shut out any _doubts_ that would get in his way… _as he’s accustomed to doing._

The window was locked, and with a quick movement of his hand, and some energy he projected outwards, he silently unlocked it from the inside.

The room was dark, and he slipped in, looking around as he closed the window smoothly, his steps like feathers.

He stood tall next to the bed, eyes narrowing at the slumbering human.

The soft sound of _clacking_ from a keyboard could be heard, too. Somewhere outside this small room…

It stopped for a moment.

England turned to the door slowly, knife hovering close to the neck’s main arteries. “…”

The clacking sound resumed.

He turned back to his first target…

And found himself staying still for a moment. Which was odd, as he’s been ending lives for so long…

No, that wasn’t what was making him hesitate… It was a meandering thought…

There’s… There isn’t much of a moral distinction between him and France… He’s doing the same, just quietly… while a crime wasn’t even committed, _yet…_

…And it’s such a bad time for his people to know about him…

If they found out about _this…_

England blinked slowly, feeling dispassionate and grey about the prospect, watching an unaware human’s slow breathing right under his blade.

…Could he hide this forever…?

No, of course not… It’s only a matter of time… He knew that, and it made him feel _terrible._ He could barely hide this sentiment, and even America noticed it…

But he couldn’t stop himself, he _had_ to… _He **had** to._

…It wouldn’t be the first time he sunk low for the sake of his citizens, for the sake of his country.

But whatever it takes, how far he had to go, if it meant keeping his country and Queen and citizens safe, he’d do it.

 _Suspects,_ not _convicts,_ though.

He struggled with the concept every time… _This_ wasn’t _civilized… He wasn’t an inquisitor, he couldn’t hunt with no proof, he’s always disapproved of such barbarity… Yet, he’s here…_

This should be left for the courts, at worst. At best, he should be helping the MI5 find these people…! Arrest them with warrants, conduct investigations, and prosecute legally!

His blade trembled and he scowled. He… He shouldn’t have to _do_ this…!

But… _France lost citizens._

_England didn’t want to end up like him, going crazy in public, in pure emotional distress due to all the links to his nation-soul cut so abruptly at once._

He was too afraid of what he’d do in front of his people…

England shook his head, hand pressing the man’s mouth, startling him awake just as he quickly slashed his throat. Naturally, the human panicked, and England held him down to diminish the noise and the thrashing, waiting while another human life is whisking away.

He hated the sound, though. _Of choking on blood._

It was over fast, and England cleaned his bloodied and gloved hands on the sheets, cleaning the knife as well.

_Both remained smudged in red._

So, yes… America was right in suspecting him. Unfortunately, England was indeed ‘up to something’… _Something his people would probably condemn, should they find out about it…_

But it didn’t matter… He’d cut the problem by the root, silently.

_From a nation’s perspective, it’s decidedly utilitarian, and England was sure even young Jeremy Bentham would agree… The man would leave it to math and decide that yes, this is the greater good for all…_

Whatever England had to do, whatever life he had to erase, even if he had to dodge his _own_ Common Law.

_And it’s not the first time he morally compromised himself to keep his citizens safe._

With that, he moved on to the next, silently leaving the room and stalking around the apartment like a shadowy reaper.

It was dark, the only light coming from a computer screen. From his intel, he knew there were only a few people in this apartment, and most were asleep.

England approached from behind, and did the same as before. A quick kill.

The next one was sleeping on a ratty couch. Also dead soon.

Eliminating each threat.

Not alerting a single one…

There were more just in this whole apartment block from what his informants told him…

_He leaves the innocent alone… Those not on the list wouldn’t be harmed by his hands…_

And he takes the hard drives from their computers, and takes pictures of the suspicious materials and the occasional weapon.

_Total: 12 threats eliminated. Three apartments breached. No witnesses._

_A little more than usual._

_And with actual evidence of malicious intent planned this time…_

_He didn’t like to think of the handful of times he found no evidence in sight…_

But luckily, he didn’t require the pistol this time around. Small blessings… Even suppressed, it was still a risky noise, just for emergencies…

The police would be called in the morning, the incriminating evidence would be found, and the MI5 would be ready for dispatch.

Then he left through the same window he came from, not sparing the cooling body a glance, climbing atop the roof again.

England sighed, emotionally drained as he ambled towards the edge, watching the empty road again.

There were too many to kill here, more so than the usual _3, 4, or 5_ , and he _did…_

And he knew the consequences would be dire, this one would be impossible to ignore, not with these targets…

The media would tackle it before any red tape could be drawn.

And he knew… he couldn’t hide it forever…

His people would eventually know…

But… _he had to do it…_

_So… he did…_

The fact that he knew how his people would react was probably the reason why his bloody hand was so shaky…

England glared at his unsteadiness. This never really happened before… Funny that…

His impending public doom was making him visibly twitchy…

He scoffed in disdain and stashed his knife back under his arm, before backing up and then running and jumping to the building across, as the road wasn’t too wide.

For a _visit,_ not to kill anyone…

He slipped down another alleyway, reaching the floor, and entered through the backdoor, finding his way around to the empty lobby, before taking the stairs.

On the right floor, he reached the door and knocked, in a specific, whimsical manner.

England carefully took the mask off, trying not to smear blood on his face. His hands weren’t too dirty, but it was just enough to make him cringe a bit.

Steps…

His _informant_ opened the door. Wide-eyes, head covered as it’s customary for her… her culture… She was waiting.

But she doesn’t open the door fully. “Is it done…?” A whisper.

England nodded. “Yes, I believe so. May I…?” He raised a hand to gesture inside, not wanting to stand in this hallway like this for long.

Her breath shuddered ever so slightly, eyes wandering to his obviously bloody hands. But she stepped back with her head down, opening the door wider. “My family is asleep, please…”

“Sorry, this won’t be long.” He walked in and looked around, taking his viscid gloves off.

To hand over payment, and for further instructions, better received personally.

England thinks he strikes a much more serious tone in person, rather than by email. He took his glasses off and glanced at his informant, her human brown-eyes widening before she turned to the kitchen again.

As a first-generation woman, her roots to his spirit were shallow, but present enough that she no doubt could feel it.

Feel that he wasn’t _normal._

Maybe she felt it even _more_ prominently than his so-accustomed citizens and their rational, secular mindsets. They were so rooted they barely noticed it, and their mind easily streamlined and rationalized whatever odd feeling they got from him to fit what notions of reality they already had.

 _Of course_ he was a human being like them. What _else_ could he _possibly_ be after all?

Not this woman, however, and not that many new arrivals from a less secular culture… It’s strange, and England wasn’t aware of this peculiarity until he began dealing with it…

They _noticed_ things about him that his people didn’t, and that was such an _old_ reaction, so much so, he forgot it existed so casually in the past…

Looking around further, he noted with a small smile that she bought some nicer things for her family with the money received, too.

Good. He liked to see signs that the money was being spent on nice things, but he hoped she’d think of the future more, too.

Save some money, and buy beneficial things for her kids.

_It deepened their roots to plan for their future **here**._

As she readied the pre-prepared tea, he counted the Euro notes in his wallet. “12 heads… That should be €6000…” He muttered, taking twelve €500 notes.

Certainly a big-break here. A widow such as herself could certainly benefit from it.

He’d have handed them in pound sterling, though, if they had more valuable notes in circulation so commonly. Euro would have to do.

England handed it over to the woman in exchange for a cup of tea. “Oh, thank you, love.” He began drinking it, not intending to stay and chat.

She backed away with the money, looking down at it. “…I-I thought you were going to _arrest_ them, not…”

_Her accent was a little thick, still…_

England sipped the whole tea, exhaling deeply with the extra warmth. _A little lukewarm, too…_

She was looking at the remnants of blood on his sleeve, of course. Barely visible, but the smell gave it away.

_She probably recognized it…_

“Sorry, I…” England glanced at it, then pushed his previous doubts and concerns aside to appear _certain_. “This is probably for the best. No chance of them ever hearing you gave them away, you’re safe, miss.” He handed her the cup, which she took with both hands and a soft dip of her head.

“Still, Sir Kirkland… This is…” She glanced at the money again.

England sighed. Although he could barely sense the discord in her heart through the shallow national link they shared, it wasn’t _quite_ hostile.

There were hints of both understanding and _disgust,_ but he couldn’t discern much beyond that.

It might just be the blood and the _murder._

_Because that’s what it was, in their eyes, even if England told himself it was utilitarian self-defence._

_Because… it was. Wasn’t it…? Self-defence?_

He ignored his own thoughts.

“You shouldn’t feel so troubled about it, Miss Naaji.” He told her, pushing his fringe off his eyes to give her a full stern look. “Those men had no intention of granting British citizens any mercy, thus I see no reason to grant them any either. You’ve saved many innocents by providing me with this information, and those who may seek retribution against you can no longer reach you.” She flinched at that. “There’s no reason to fret.”

Ms. Naaji sat down on the couch, placing the money and the cup on the coffee table. “…I see…”

“Don’t forget, you have _my_ gratitude, and that’s much more valuable than _theirs.”_ England turned away, reaching for the door.

What he felt from her with these words wasn’t a bit discernible to him. It gave him pause.

_“Umma...?”_

A small voice caught his attention, and he turned slightly, seeing Ms. Naaji standing to usher a young child, _5 or 6,_ back to his room, in Arabic.

England frowned, watching. When the child looked at him, the boy did feel _slightly_ more entrenched than his mother, but... not by much. He waved with a small smile anyway.

_Hopefully, he couldn’t see or smell the blood._

The child only had time to blink in curiosity before the door was shut.

Ms. Naaji sighed against the door, not turning back to him.

England held the doorknob, hesitating to say what was on his mind, before deciding to say it anyway. “You should be speaking English regularly, don’t you think...?”

The implication was loud and clear.

But… that’s how they do it when they come to live in his country…

_‘When in Rome’, as they say. It deepens the roots._

Ms. Naaji still didn’t turn to him, head resting on the door. “I… wanted a little piece of home here…”

Silence.

England could hear the ticking clock from somewhere near.

“…Isn’t _this_ country your home now?” He asked softly.

“Y-Yes, of course… but–”

England scoffed. “Then you shouldn’t cling so much to nations you don’t belong to _._ It’s not _appreciated.”_ He left at that, door closing softly behind him.

He gritted his teeth, squashing that pang of annoyed _jealousy._

_An ugly sentiment, but what else should he feel when a tentative citizen still feels so attached to another nation?_

England sighed wearily, walking down the hallway towards the stairs.

He just wanted to go home and _forget_ about yet another morally-dubious case of vigilante nation-justice…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. England is treading on thin ice here. I know. I understand. **No, I do not condone it, don't EVEN start.**
> 
> First, France going on a hedonistic bender to stifle the animosity and the crazy, also at the behest of his own government so he doesn't influence more of his citizens to act out as well. It seemed like a realistic response. As I see modern, post-Cold War France as different, compared to post-WWI France.  
> (I also see him as taller than in canon for some reason, taller than England, too. 175 France seems so weird to me, I'd say he's at least 179…) 
> 
> Don't even get me started on the sex-thing. It should be creepy, because the human in question has no real idea of how _vulnerable_ they leave themselves to mental manipulation afterward. Let's just say the nation can use that with severely nefarious intentions too… Is it even truly consensual with these conditions???
> 
> But okay, then there's England. The question here is (and will usually be) _why **wouldn't** this happen...?_ I think it's extremely unrealistic to say it wouldn't, as I can't personally explain why it wouldn't happen. Which is something I mentioned America doing in Ch1 too. 'Nation-justice'. France goes a little crazy and shuts it down with wine afterward, while England remains very quiet while operating in the shadows… and I wanted the whole scene to look… _eerie. Or 'DUBIOUS', let's say._
> 
> But. I also left… somewhat explicit… that England _may_ have killed innocents while doing this, too. He's actually rather uncertain sometimes.
> 
> But oof, okay, let's go. Let's TRY to put my crazy convoluted thoughts into words here...
> 
> The main thing here is that _nations_ are supposed to embody a community, a culture, therefore, embody a certain sect of morality that is a little different than the normal, cosmopolitan Western morality, which is what we'd call the Morality of Autonomy. That means the _individual's_ autonomy is at the top of the pyramid. That means 'if someone's not hurting anyone, then they can do whatever they want with themselves', right? The 'community' (country, family, culture, whatever) has no say on someone's sexuality, for example. Personal autonomy is paramount in this moral matrix.
> 
> But I'd think that's a weird moral matrix to apply to nations... They embody _the community. CULTURE._ Their moral matrix should be the Morality of Community, which works a bit differently. Community is paramount in this one, even at the COST of the individual's autonomy.
> 
> And I kinda want them to ACT like it by instinct first. Because I'm writing them as more instinct-driven than humans (but less so than animals), it feels like even the nations whose cultures are the most 'Morality of Autonomy' driven, the nations should still be somewhat 'hardwired' to follow the Morality of Community first (Morality of Sanctity second, and Autonomy _third)._
> 
> This is kinda what I tried to portray here as England talks with a first-generation immigrant who's acting as his informant. He's very thankful for her service, but jealous of her attachment to her previous nation, while at the same time pressuring her to adapt to him and his culture, to 'grow roots', because nations embody culture. And I feel that this is what culture does to new arrivals, it felt natural that nations would behave in a rather pushy, expectant, and demanding way with new immigrants. _"Well, you're MY citizen now, why aren't you acting like it? I won't like you if you don't do that, do you really want me to not like you?"_ which is also why England was a little judgy with her.
> 
> Essentially, I wanted to characterize here the tense pressure some immigrants may feel to adapt and adapt fast. Which yes, can be unpleasant, especially if they aren't being treated so well for not doing so... Ms. Naaji's behavior too is a reflection of that, because Islamic culture is not at all like Western culture, it has a lot more going on there when it comes to moral psychology (ask if curious), but I don't have the space to go over it here... So, nevermind for now.
> 
> But yes, England was indeed doing something reprehensible, summary execution of humans at his leisure, entirely based on what's technically hear-say and espionage, instead of a court of law. And yes, of course it's bad to act like this... It's more likely he'd believe in the sanctity of the power of the law, as English Common Law is his thing, so this should give him a bad feeling too.
> 
> But this comes with a whole 'nother can of worms, concerning what _led_ him to this extreme position in the first place. It's quite a lot, but I won't get into the issues with the English government here. Shrug.
> 
> I hope I didn't ruffle too many feathers. :) This whole thing was supposed to have some eerie, creepy implications.


	14. Things Finally Moving Along Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a big social media entry for next chapter or the chapter after that, I think. I couldn't add it here because it's literally 7K words of it, haha. Then there's also another which I may post soon, that's 10K words. :D
> 
> So what's left here is pretty short, and a bit more setup for what's coming. I'm a fan of setups, honestly. I feel like the payoffs are better when I take my time.

**329 Is it just me, or things have been a little weird around here recently?** (self.GaiaIsReal)  
submitted 4 days ago * by FanningSmoke777

I can’t be the only gaia subreddit veteran here who’s noticing something off about recent events. I feel like I was under the impression that things wouldn’t change here, that this big secret we’re somewhat in on would always remain a secret overall because let’s be frank here, there’s nothing we can do about this. It’s too crazy, and normies don’t care about this, or they won’t believe it anyway/

The media won’t talk about it, no one will believe us, and yet, I saw CNN mentioning the flack some local politician was getting (because some dumbasses here decided that wou;d be a good idea. F U, now we have more eyes on us), it was just ONCE, but now there are more and more new people here asking what’s going on and just generally being a nuisance.

After that guy’s lawsuit went nowhere, as I expected, it’s almost like something’s about to happen soon, like a ticking clock. Did you idiots decide to share that post around like crazy or what? You’re begging for this place to get deleted by the powers that be, huh?

Then the post that followed with all the new lawsuit information? That felt like way too much information, I’m so suspicious now. I feel like we’re being played. That guy most of all.

I don’t believe this can ever see the light of mainstream day, because people won’t listen or care. But why these little things start happening now? The French Gaian basically getting arrested in public, and people saying he was the guy who killed the terror suspects the day of the attack? How is THAT circulating Twitter like this? No TV news following that, but it still sounds like something that shouldn’t happen. Aren’t they with the government? Why WOULD any of that happen? And then that news in Britain? I mean, it seems obvious to me what happened, but why did the media pay so much attention to it, compared to the French one? It’s oddly inconsistent coverage.

I’m just blowing steam here, and I’m not sure how to express what I’m thinking right now. I feel like something’s coming but I don’t know when and this bracing is making me anxious.

all 398 comments  
sorted by: best ▼

> ♦ [-] **PennyDeStar** 4 days ago
> 
> First, do you have a problem with new people coming here to know what’s this about? I don’t see why, this is not some special club, don’t be some kind of elitist. I’ve been here for a month and I’m just as interested as you ‘veterans’.
> 
> So, maybe could you post without throwing shade at people?  
>  **permalink embed save report reply**
> 
>   * ♦ [-] **FanningSmoke777** 4 days ago  
>   
> I really doubt you can properly appreciate how much research and information-gathering has been happening here, for YEARS. It’s included a lot of risk to people here.  
>   
> So no, I won’t stop ‘throwing shade’. Newcomers like you should understand that this is not some game we’re playing here. Didn’t you see how fast the French Gaian killed those men? Didn’t you read about the 12 dead overnight in a single apartment complex in Britain? That’s not the first time these things have happened, and there’s probably more we don’t even know about. We’re not dealing with celebrities or politicians here.  
>   
> We’re dealing with sentient entities that can disregard the law and kill you. When you see a wild tiger, you’re not supposed to saunter up to it and pet it just because it looks pretty. It doesn’t care about the law or your rights, it is going to maul you if it wants to. The difference here is that these entities can’t be put down, they're old, and they're smart enough to scheme.  
>   
> I’m not saying anything because I’m elitist, but because I feel like you lot are a bunch of millennials who think you found a fun new club to play in.  
>   
> Well it’s not.  
>  **permalink embed save report reply**  
>   
>  **56 more replies**
> 

> 
> **75 more replies**

**119 more replies**

** …**

* * *

**Essex – 8AM**

Early morning and the chirping birds welcome England happily as he stepped out of the house, stretching his arms and fingers above his head with a smile. “Well, good morning.”

He received more happy chirps in return as he surveyed the gardens stretched before him.

England walked around to the shed where he kept his gardening tools and grabbed a box of his usual utensils, before walking back to the gardens to tend to his flowers first.

Here, it was a bigger, formal garden adjacent to the manor, and it was his favourite spot in this house, perfect to not think about _anything_ that mattered…

_Especially after the tense few weeks so far._

Naturally, he’s eventually joined by a newly awoken red-fox that visited him every day. “Hello there, Jinxie.” He chuckled while patting it, watching it scurry around him in a fluffy flurry of snickering noises and wagging tail like an adorably little sneak that made him snicker back. “Food later.”

There were also the familiar birds in their nests on the many trees that decorated the grassy field around his propriety, the few meandering foxes, the little weasels that hid in his garden sometimes, the rare falcon that landed near him for a ‘hello’ and maybe a snack, and the occasional grey squirrel, which England often felt the need to shun or just glare at until it had the decency to leave…

A _petty_ sentiment, he knew the little buggers did nothing wrong, but they were _literally_ brought from his bastard firstborn’s lands, and they’d more or less occupied his native red squirrels’ space like a literal projection of the brat’s attitude, to the point of kicking out all the red squirrels England grew up with up to his brother’s lands, _mostly_ …

 _…Always nice to have a perpetual reminder, he supposed…_ England grumbled as he watered the bundles of roses around the garden, shaking his head.

Well, he shouldn’t let this bother him enough to ruin his good mood, so grey nuisance aside, England enjoyed his time of peace. It was as close to _paradise_ as he could get, more peaceful than he ever really had in his long life.

Here, away from the cities, and all their messy crowds and politics and noise.

Just him, his plants, and his animal friends.

He was, thus, not very happy at the prospect of interruptions approaching his house at _this_ hour, and it made him sigh and shake his head, ignoring it and hoping the car would just drive by…

In such a large space between him and the nearest settlements, it was impossible to miss whenever any human approached.

 _No such luck._ He was disappointed when he heard a car stopping by the front of the manor.

England didn’t stop his task, ignoring the presence. _If they wish to interrupt him, they ought to seek him instead of making him delay his usual routine with such inconvenience._

Several minutes go by before he heard steps approaching. They probably knocked, waited, and were now walking around the propriety.

England didn’t turn to them, preferring to lightly brush the petals of a white flower. “How rude of you, to visit without warning.” He _cautioned_ them.

He didn’t know who it was, but it didn’t matter. He could differentiate civilians from government men by now.

“Lord Kirkland.” Whoever greeted, stopping a few respectable steps away. “I apologize for the intrusion. However, I was sent to find you, as you haven’t answered to the summons from the Home Office.”

England scoffed. “It’s _morning.”_ He stressed dully, turning to the suited man with an equally dull look. “Short of an emergency, I prefer to remain unperturbed in my personal time.”

The two men, one he recognized, _his_ agent, agent Mason from the Home Office, one who worked with his more _subtle_ affairs… The other man, however… “Understandable, Lord Kirkland, however…”

One of the foxes began to growl.

England interrupted it, shushing it and already knowing what this was about. “You. Agent Manson.” The younger man twitched at being addressed, not looking at him in the eye. “What is _this_ about?”

 _Shame,_ he noted…

Manson licked his lips nervously, looking for words, but he was interrupted by the other man. “Sorry, I’m Henry Dawson, MI5.” He then showed a badge, which England perused briefly, remaining unimpressed.

“I see.” He quietly dropped the haw, rolling his eyes. “So?”

Dawson seemingly expected more of a reaction. But no such luck. He recomposed himself. “As you may know, around two weeks ago, around 6 in the morning, a gruesome scene was discovered in a _certain_ neighbourhood.”

England hummed noncommittally.

“Yes, exactly 12 dead men were found within an apartment complex, all killed rather _professionally_ , might I add.”

“Tragic…” England droned, maybe a little too quickly. It probably didn’t matter, and England directed his glare at Manson, who looked down. _Yes, ‘shame’ indeed._

“Yes. The thing is that the Sector had been made aware of certain… _secrets_ it has seemingly kept from, well, _itself.”_ Dawson drawled. “Namely, certain operations that have been carried out with intel given by agents without proper permission or even documentation.”

England continued to stare holes into Agent Manson. “…Interesting.” He drawled; tone _dry_ like the Saharan deserts.

Dawson gave a subtle glance at the other man, before turning back. “Lord Kirkland. Section 5 is well aware of your nature and position in this country, and also of the latitude you have when it comes to this sort of thing, however, _this…”_ He breathed in, gesturing off at nothing. “I don’t have to say what a breach of conduct this _is,_ if… if this _was_ your doing, that is…

_You’ve broken the Law. You’ve violated it in such a crass manner, sir… It's almost obscene._

England’s eyes turned to Dawson, who unconsciously shifted on his feet under the stare. “…Why, what a _lofty_ accusation to level at me, on mere hearsay.”

“I… I doubt it’s mere hearsay, Lord Kirkland. There are more than a few statements on the matter at the Home Office. It’s… been rather chaotic over there.”

England stopped to think for a moment at the statement. He wondered: _did he cross the line this time…? Or was this simply inevitable?_

Either way, denying it further felt grossly shameful, considering…

“I see, I see…” England sighed tiredly, scratching under his eye, feeling restless as he crossed his arms. “I don’t know what you expect to do with this. What exactly am I supposed to say? Apologize?”

“L-Lord Kirkland…!” Dawson stepped back in mild horror, as if he didn’t quite _want_ to believe and was just putting on a brave face before. He certainly couldn’t deny it, but _hearing_ it, even if not so straight, must have felt a little rattling.

Agent Mason remained frozen where he was, trying to maintain a stoic look, and looking a little stiff and forced while at it.

Well, now, he knew he was in a bit of trouble… and he hates how uncertain he about what will happen.

“So. What now, _Home Office?”_ England challenged.

* * *

**12 PM**

France groused under his breath, staring at the MRE portion on the table.

The tent was a little hot, the military uniform was a bit constricting, and the food wasn’t the most pleasant.

After so many days on a bender, military rations felt like such an inelegant downgrade, even if he tried to make it look presentable by putting all of it on a tray.

Still, _for_ military rations, it sure beat everything he’s ever had in the distant past during military operations. Three thousand calories for a small boxed meal wasn’t so bad… _Nevermind that he doesn't actually need that many calories._

“Don’t pout, monsieur Bonnefoy.” The voice of his current commanding officer spoke up gruffly. “Just eat already.”

France huffed and began eating the crackers first. “I am _not_ pouting. I just don’t like _being_ here.”

 _'Here'_ being this hot and humid continent.

**Central African Republic**

“We all have to suck it up. You’re here as punishment, no? After that stunt you pulled at home?”

“What ‘stunt’?” France spoke in between bites, glaring at nothing in particular. “They deserved to be cut down, and I did nothing wrong.”

His CO, Commandant Allard, sat down in front of him. Not necessarily a higher rank than France on a normal day, per se, but still assigned as _responsible for him_ here…

“That may be, but the president still put you here to hide you for a while.” Commandant Allard smirked sardonically. “I hear common civilians are recognizing you, and someone sicced the police on you.”

“Don’t get me _started_ on that.” France pointed, pouring the bagged juice in a small cup. With a raid coming up, he still had to finish his meal, so it was no use to rant at the moment. Although, at this point, it was actually possible he’d be recognized even here, by his own men.

He hated that his government’s immediate response to his presence being potentially recognized was to simply move him somewhere _else_ and ignore his very existence for a while.

“Where’s Mademoiselle Bɑ̃ɡi, by the way? She should have been here an _hour_ ago.” France asked nonchalantly to change the subject.

“Hm? Not here yet, last I checked.” The CO said with an annoyed shrug. “No contact or sign of trouble, but that’s _normal_ for her…” He groaned, hand ruffling his buzzed hair. “No offense, but you _nationale_ people are a hard bunch to work with. You charge ahead,” he threw up his hands, listing with a winded tone of exasperation. “you create chaos, you scare soldiers, enemy soldiers scatter _everywhere_ , and I never know where the _hell_ you are…!”

France hummed, amused but unimpressed. “You should know how this works by now, non? We go by different tactics, and a good commander has to adapt to that. It’s a bit of a _waste_ to use us as rank-and-file soldiers.” Then he frowned. “Still, I’m a little offended you think I’m the same as the _local_ nationales.”

Allard has only worked with African nations so far. Never with France himself.

“Is that so?” The man muttered.

“I don’t let enemy targets escape,” France said primly. “I know the layout and I disclose my location to you, I keep contact and I stay out of your men’s line of fire. You don’t have to worry about friendly-fire or me interfering with your side of the operation, I have my own and I execute it perfectly before the enemy can react and counter it. I’m a _professional_ soldier, unlike the _self-taught_ locals.” He made a shooing gesture.

_He regrets not teaching them a thing or two back when he had the damn chance._

_But then again, that was a little while ago…_

Allard watched him, then sat straight, arms crossed. “I hope so. I’ve had my fair share of arguments with Mademoiselle Bɑ̃ɡi by now. Lack of synchronization and her inability to follow orders or follow the plan or maintain contact with whoever is responsible for her. Always such a headache…”

“Don’t worry, she’ll stay close to me today. I hope, for her own sake…”

“How about you also teach her some basic military _discipline_ while you’re at it? Keep her in line?”

“She’s independent, I can’t just tell her what to do anymore.” France shrugged with a disdainful grin.

Noise outside, a familiar presence, followed by loud crunching steps on gravel approaching.

“Speak of the devil…” He muttered.

The flaps of the tent moved to reveal the nation France had left representing this country back in the 60’s. Looking angry and rather tired.

“Ah, bonjour, chér!” France greeted loudly, gesturing for her to sit. “How was your morning~?” It maybe sounded rather _mocking_ , actually.

France didn’t mean it maliciously, really, but he felt the need to maintain a certain image…

An image of being in control. Of being in a better, _safer_ position than her.

‘Whatever’s giving her trouble is _actually_ of no real concern, he could handle it, even if she couldn’t, hon hon’.

Maybe it made her feel a little weak and incompetent, maybe it insulted her and made her blood boil, but in contrast, it made him look stronger than he actually was.

Well, he _was_ stronger. But it didn’t hurt to have the message sink in… so she would remember that his _help_ wasn't disposable.

Miss Bɑ̃ɡi glared daggers at him but ultimately sighed and sat down, forehead resting on the table, hiding her face.

France continued to eat, but he began feeling a bit of concern, exchanging a glance with his CO. “How was your brother?” He asked her with a softer tone.

She looked up; her red eyes were fiery. “He’s no _brother_ of mine…!” She hissed, banging on the table with a fist and making the nearly empty tray jump slightly. “That devil’s spawn wants to kill me!”

Over religion, as usual… Miss Bɑ̃ɡi was Christian, and her dissident brother was a Muslim… They hate each other too much to even talk at this point, and France finds them _ridiculously_ _stupid_ for it. “Is that a new scar he gave you?”

“…Oui.”

A new one right across the bridge of her nose, to match the one that nearly nicked her eye, just above the eyebrow. _An ‘attempted but missed’ payback for the one she gave him across his left eye two years ago._

_If he’s still blind on that eye, then it’d be easier to put him down._

Still… that’s not to say all the humans these two claim as _theirs_ have the same hatred their nations had… but France knows very well that a nation can get _too_ attached to an extremist portion of their people and start acting out in a violent manner, especially if they’re in a vulnerable position under the authority of another nation… even _more_ so if said authority was seen as non-legitimate to begin with…

The more extreme minority can sometimes drive a nation crazy _very_ easily, independently of what their more moderate citizens think…

One of those things that depend solely on the nation’s own will to resist it… Her brother wasn’t one of those who even wanted to resist.

The result was rather inevitable, unfortunately.

Bɑ̃ɡi’s scars would heal and disappear once this internal conflict was done and over with, too.

Possibly once her brother was _dead_ and she could connect with the citizens left alone.

Although, there’s always the chance that they _won’t_ connect, that she would reject them because of their religious affiliation instead of accepting them as her minority, that they would reject her for not being like them too, and considering how unstable she’s always been about this…

Maybe she’d have to keep the scars, marring her pretty face. _How unfortunate…_

“Hmm, I see.” France muttered dismissively and stood, hands firmly on the table. “So how about you eat and rest up for an hour or so? I don’t need you falling behind once we’re out there. We’ll go over the routes once you’re ready.”

Her response was a tired, mumbled agreement in Sango instead of French. France rolled his eyes and gestured for his CO to follow him out so she could rest.

Talking to her was annoying enough. He knew very well that if he let her vent, she’d start ranting for hours about things France couldn't bring himself to care about.

France pulled up a cigarette to deal with his surfacing irritation. _And it’s always the same nonsense._ _‘Noo, my god is real! You’re worshipping the wrong deity! Noooo, MY god is real! You’re a heretic!’ Argh! Who CARES?! Do something productive for once! No wonder this place is still such a–’_

France held his thoughts back. “Stupid nonsense…” The smoke helped, marginally.

Allard cleared his throat. “I see she put you in a foul mood already. How about you steer clear of the camp for now? The field-reporters are here to document the incoming operations, and you’re literally the only soldier here with a sword.”

_And also, the only one with a non-standard haircut._

France turned to the truck that had just arrived. Journalists, here to watch and record the events so his State could cut it up into a proper propaganda piece for their country’s PR.

Yes, he intended to stay _well_ out of their way. France waved the man off, walking away. “Oui, Oui. Radio me once Mademoiselle Bɑ̃ɡi is ready.”

It’s not like it’d be necessary to be spotted. France would work ahead of infantrymen, to find Miss Bɑ̃ɡi’s brother and apprehend him so the rebels and terrorists wouldn’t have a nation at their disposal.

Things should move swiftly once they got that sorted out, _since Miss Bɑ̃ɡi seemed incapable of doing so on her own…_

This was really the biggest problem in this damned continent. More nations than countries. And the nations left in charge aren’t strong enough to handle the underling nations left below them.

All of them nations who were told to _forget_ _the_ _past_ with no fanfare or incentive.

France scoffed as he walked away.

Sometimes, he thought it was too much to sort out, and maybe they ought to leave them the hell alone, let them sort things out by themselves, even though it’d be bloody.

Like Europeans did. He rolled his eyes. _Yes, and the rivers of blood showed that vividly…_

 _A never-ending wheel of chaos and death._ France hates being a nation sometimes… He just _had_ to live long enough to see it _turn_.

He took a deep breath of nicotine, then exhaled. Aah, poetics, he’s sure in a dramatic mood all of a sudden…

* * *

**Texas – 5PM**

America lowered his sunglasses, glaring at nothing in particular beyond the dust and sand around him, with the river rushing right in front of him.

It’s the thinnest river divide and he could easily hear and see anyone on the other side. Here he just heard the wind, the water, and the occasional eagle.

He already got briefed on the situation by the border guards, and America only felt bad that he wasn’t around to deal with it when it happened…

So, his only options were to do absolutely nothing, or… do _this._

America sighed and pulled up his pistol, clicking off the safety and aiming at a boulder on the other side. The shot rang and echoed. Several seconds went by.

It’s just a formality.

America waited with his arms crossed, knowing damn well that his southern neighbor would sense the ‘attack’ on his territory…

America focused in the environment around him, waiting for the usual ordeal—and predictably, he stepped back at the sound of a gunshot that hit the dusty ground where he previously was.

America kept his arms crossed and turned to the rocky hill and boulders on the other side. “Well, hello there, uuh, _Javier_ , or whatever the fuck your name is this time.” He drawled, the Texan accent sipping in.

Newly arrived Mexico, standing atop a boulder, scowled under his hat. He lowered his revolver. “It’s _Damián.”_ He hissed.

“Yeah, I’m sure that won’t change by the time we talk again…”

Mexico dropped on his knee, leaning on it and still holding the gun. “Heard one of your new candidates complaining about my people.” He smirked, but America recognized it as his neighbor’s ‘I hate-you’ smirk.

America stared back dully, unamused, then sighed theatrically. “Well, _maybe_ if you and _your useless government_ dealt with your _criminals_ for once, there’d be nothing to complain about, because _then_ , your people wouldn’t be _literally_ _running away_ from you and towards _my_ border?”

“Well, _maaaybe,”_ Mexico raised his voice, already heated. “if _you_ didn’t have such drug-addled citizens, these criminals wouldn’t have such a rich market to grow in?!”

“They are _your_ criminals and _they’re_ the problem my people here complain about, first of all.” America scowled back and quickly drew his own gun, pointing it at Mexico, who aimed back. “Alright, just tell me this here, ‘cause I’m curious…” He hissed. “Why did a _chopper_ fly into _my_ territory, shoot at _my_ border guards, and refuse to identify themselves all the while?”

Mexico sneered. “Those weren’t my men.” He stopped, realizing how _bad_ that sounded. “Probably a cartel chopper having a kick…”

America glared in disbelief. “They were _your_ fucking people shooting at _mine_!”

“Those criminals are not my people!!”

“Then WHY can’t y'all KILL them?!”

“Don’t blame ME when _you’re_ the reason–”

“I didn’t do a thing! Deal with them goddamn thugs for once!”

“I WOULD if my government wasn’t getting in the way, _tu cabrón de mierda!”_

“Excuses, excuses! How’s that MY fault again?!!”

“YOUR agencies did this–!”

“I REPEAT MY FUCKING QUESTION!”

Both made a loud noise of frustration and shouted, **“** You’re the _WORST_ neighbor! **”** then turned to leave the opposite way.

But America turned back pointing. “If even ONE of my men gets shot here, no matter who shot first, I’m gonna go in there to kill them punks AND THEN I’m gonna kick _your_ goddamn ass, UNDERSTAND?!”

Mexico turned back to flip him off, _“Vete al infierno!!”_ before turning and leaving with a huff.

America growled. “Argh, damn that little bastard.” Unproductive but obligatory conversation concluded, America sniffed and he walked away, kicking little rocks petulantly all the way. “Who does he think he is…?!”

Whatever veracity Mexico’s words had, America wasn’t about to bow down and accept it with his tail tucked between his legs like a coward! It's not like Mexico doesn't have bullshit he has to answer for, considering the _frankly_ infuriating manner his criminals sometimes behaved in? This stunt with the chopper wasn't even the _worst_ of it!

America sauntered all the way back to the fence, hands in his pockets.

Now, America isn’t asking much, he thought. He only has _two_ continental neighbors. Is it really that much to ask, that _both_ of them be good neighbors? It'd be understandable if he had, like, ten nations to deal with around him. A few would be shitty neighbors, naturally.

But he's only got _two,_ c'mon!

He wouldn’t have minded a North-American trade deal with the guy if his territory wasn’t such a myriad of problems. What’s Mexico’s deal, anyway?! Accusing America of _being_ the problem and then getting mad when America returned the favor?

America sneered in annoyance, adjusting the sunglasses.

Next order of business was to take care of those alt-media people _loitering_ around his apartment… After that, he'd find work somewhere calmer, far, _far_ away from the border _or_ D.C.

Also, look into moving to an apartment somewhere _else,_ again.

America stopped just as he lifted a leg over the chain-fence, noting a sight that wasn’t there when he arrived.

A car, and about three people just outside it. One a border-guard, one a woman, and another guy with a camera. All staring at him in rather clear bewilderment.

America stared back. Was his argument with Mexico loud enough to be heard from here…?

For a brief moment, he mused over his choices. Ignore them or play it cool?

Ignore them, obviously!

America continued his move and crossed the fence, looking away from them as he walked off coolly, hands in his pockets like he hadn't even seen them.

Inwardly, he knew he was sweating. _Shit. Were they filming a documentary or something around here? Or was it news? It’s unlikely to be live, as live filming outside a studio or at a somewhat controlled area tends to be discouraged, since his State could never be sure of where he was exactly and… Well._

“Uhm, excuse me, mister!” A female’s voice rang, a little too cheery.

He heard some uncertain muttering from the guard, too, but he didn’t stop her from taking steps towards America.

America wanted none of that, and the Texan part of him decided to be a _little_ _shit_ right then and there. America pulled a gun out and grinned, shooting somewhat upwards. Aim crooked slightly for the bullet to possibly fall on the river once gravity brought it back. _Safety and all._

It startled everyone around him and the woman tripped back with a shriek.

America still smiled, barrel smoking. “Mind your own business, please~” Shocked silence greeted him. He hid the gun again and continued on his way as if nothing had happened. No one stopped him this time.

_He was in no mood to deal with nosy citizens at the moment._

But why did it feel like there were cameras fucking _everywhere_ these days? He’s running into them so often it’s starting to annoy the shit out of him and he couldn't even bother to care about being seen at this point.

Shitty year indeed, he supposed…

* * *

**Beijing – 8PM**

China smiled at the sight before him, marveling at the loudness of such a wide audience gathering in the building.

What a _stage_ for such a show.

From his seat, fingers intertwined atop his crossed legs, he could see the ring through the large windows. A fighting ring within a fairly sizable arena full of gaudy lights for this particular type of 'sport.'

He waited calmly from this VIP audience booth that was just his for the time being.

For all accounts, he should be nervous… He’s never done this before. Not like this. Not on this scale.

But in actuality, China was _excited._ This would be an interesting event, and he has yet to regret preparing and coming here. He was sure his people would enjoy the rather satisfying show this would _most_ _certainly_ be.

His assistant for the day returned from her phone call, glasses reflecting the arena's lights. “Everything is ready, Elder Wang.”

“I see.” China stood, smoothing the cuffs of his clothes, the typical garbs of a Tai-Chi master. Perfect for a fight. China smiled wide and confident as he walked towards the main hall. “Time to teach this disrespectful human a thing or two about our culture.”

His assistant followed, stoic and silent behind him.

No longer would China let a human in his country continuously disregard his noble heritage in public with that crass and ugly Western style of fighting. China would beat in his own game and he'd do so with class.

And if anything, the human in question should be _honored._

He’d grace a mere human with his prowess; _China himself_ would step forth and discipline him for his transgression.

And for the first time, many of his people would see greatness up close…

This was going to be a _historic_ event and China couldn't wait to watch the waves it created.

* * *

 **10.8K I’m a Gaian. ****Ask me anything.** (self.GaiaIsReal)  
submitted 3 days ago * by 77Leon77

From Hong Kong. I’m just spitting on someone’s shoes right now. I’ll be here for a day or so. Ask away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'll post the whole AMA soon. Next chapter or the one after that? :)
> 
> Anyway, I think I heard from a Mexican once, about the _spectacular misfortune_ of having the US as their neighbor. It was a saying, but I can't remember the exact wording now. lol  
> One thing I notice often from American dialogue concerning Mexico, is that it's usually portrayed as a hopeless hellhole, while, somehow, at the same time, portrayed as uh, 'not a shithole country'? ...I gotta say, I have a low tolerance for contradictions and inconsistencies (especially when they come from me)... Pick one or be more nuanced, please? Cartels are a big problem, yeah, but there's more to that country than that, and I can't wait to get into that, especially since Mexico-American relations are going to get some attention soon. I like to write these two with a very complicated relationship, and I want to highlight that both of them have valid reasons to yell at each other... Although, I suppose one is righter than the other on who wronged the other the most...
> 
> Btw, was anyone even _mildly_ aware of French military operations in the Central African Republic? Or that CAR had a civil war going for like, years? lol No one ever talks about what's happening in Africa, it's just... ah, western media, am I right? 
> 
> Then there's some thoughts that may seem more natural for 3rd world people. The image that we have of 1st world countries is generally that they're stable in a way ours aren't. There's this idealized image that they don't deal with the same problems we do. That they're so much stronger, they may seem downright perfect. I like the idea that weaker nations may deal with that feeling when dealing with nations who are so much stronger than them, and I feel like it'd be especially potent with African nations. That alone would hurt their confidence in themselves and their sense of stability in this world, and make their ex-overlords seem untouchable and 'much better than them'. And it's not as if France (and others) are doing it on purpose, it's just how they come across, and the effects of that. Because to be frank, all of this said, they _are_ still much more stable than these countries...  
> (Forgive me if there's any inconsistency on the matter of African conflicts, it's not really my goal to depict those that accurately, I'm more focused on the characters' relationships).
> 
> And of course, reminder, there are also journalists there. It's going to get messy, because nations in battle are messy and crazy.
> 
> PS: France is top-tier nation. Sticky WWII jokes diminish the frankly OP history of France dunking on everyone around him. lol He's basically got the 'most battles won' score in Europe, I think.
> 
> Then there's England, dealing with the possible consequences of what he's been up to. Not much to say about it, other than it's going to be a bigger deal soon. All I can say is that England as a character cares a lot about legality... and disregarding it causes a big conflict for him internally.
> 
> There's not a whole lot to say on China. The setup for that event, well, I could have gone into further detail, but there's not much I could write there that wouldn't drag on or be boring. There's one conversation to be had before this event, and I'll leave that for another chapter, to have the two together. :x
> 
> Then Hong Kong... Aaah... That'll be a big social media entry soon.
> 
> [Hey, I got a Gab account. Twitter sucks.](https://gab.com/Ms_YYK) For random videos I find, funny or serious, memes, excerpts from what book I'm reading, and random thoughts.  
>   
> GameStop Stonks lol  
> 


	15. Oh, Wow, Leon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went and played around with the Chinese language again because I'm an fucking idiot.
> 
> Quick update because this was basically already written. I just did some editing.
> 
> Can't believe we got to 100 comments here, though! Thank you!

**GAIAISREAL**   
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**10.8K I’m a Gaian. ****Ask me anything.** (self.GaiaIsReal)  
submitted 3 days ago * by 77Leon77

From Hong Kong. I’m just spitting on someone’s shoes right now. I’ll be here for a day or so. Ask away.

Won't reply to replies to my replies. I'm on a time crunch here.

all 17844 comments  
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♦ [-] **SteadyLifeline** 3 days ago

…Waaaaaaaait. Wait. Wait. You serious?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Yeah. Since I can’t sit at the big boys’ table, I might as well rebel a little.  
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♦ [-] **stark_burglary** 3 days ago

Oh, haha. I’ll bite. What ARE you then?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> In Chinese, we’re called ‘Guó or Mínzú Línghún’, writes like this 國靈魂 or 民族靈魂, means something like ‘National soul/spirit’. Can be just ‘Hún’ for short, it’s the same word for the human soul that goes to heaven… The recent theories I read weren’t exactly wrong, you can translate the hanzi to get their individual meaning to see what I mean. You could see it as pure mythology. Other languages use the word for ‘nation’ or some equivalent as synonymous or shorthand too, which maybe sounds ridiculous but it's just because you’re not used to it. Take it as superstitious lingo we're kinda stuck with.  
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♦ [-] **huge_charade** 3 days ago

Uuuuuh, what? You a troll? lol There’s no way any of them would literally show up here of all places. We're just a bunch of retards online.  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> I've been called a 'retarded brat' before. But not all of us are tech illiterate and not all of us benefit from this secrecy.  
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♦ [-] **intrepidprototype236** 3 days ago

??????????????????? Okay, so……

Are you actually immortal??  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Pretty sure we die. Had a bunch of uncles/aunts in Mainland when I was really young. They’re all mostly dead now. There used to be a lot more overall in the world too. Most died in wars or were murdered. Very few die off on their own, and those who do, it’s sickness. Not old age.
> 
> So technically yes, but not really.  
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♦ [-] **SleeperDart** 3 days ago

Ah, so that's how it is. Okay. Look, I can’t say I like that you lot exist. How are we supposed to coexist with a competing species?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> It would be a problem if we were competing with humans. We actually compete with each other instead. There’s a bunch of issues concerning territorial claims, and the fact that we hate sharing space, and most of us can’t stand each other. I can’t say you have to worry about that specific issue.  
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♦ [-] **PM_the_manager** 3 days ago

HOLY. SHIT. How old are you?????  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> In Western languages we count by decades, so I’d normally say ‘I’m 17-d.o.’ in English. 174. Born in 1841. Look 15 or so. Exact date doesn’t matter because no one ever knows the exact day. Most don’t know the exact year either, thus ‘count by decade’ habit there.
> 
> Under 50 d.o. is generally considered ‘pretty young’, and that’s because most of us who ever lived didn’t actually live past that age. It’s an important threshold of sorts. Like a human reaching adulthood at 18 or so.  
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♦ [-] **smoothbarrister11** 3 days ago

Here we go! Whats your name?? If you don’t mind me asking…  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Leon Wang is my English name.  
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♦ [-] **well_to_do_tycoon** 3 days ago

Holy shit, this day jsut turned right around! So, maybe clueless question, but did you fight in wars?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> During WWI, Arthur, my guardian at the time, still thought I was too young, I looked 10, and he didn’t really want me in combat. I still kind of garrisoned with the navy protecting HK’s main port (after some basic training against his wishes), helping out where I could, and also helped the colonial adm deal with a disease outbreak for a while. I stayed at home during WWII too, still looked 10-ish, and just took arms when the Japanese invaded. Yamato, my uncle of sorts, he was there and he was off his rocker at the time. I couldn’t beat him, ofc, nearly got myself killed, and we didn’t manage to hold them out, so I spent that time mostly hiding and sabotaging the Japanese ops in the area, mostly quietly so Yamato wouldn’t come back to actually kill me; he was too busy in either Mainland or the Pacific, so he wouldn’t show unless I did something too brazen… I just held up until more British forces arrived to kick them out. No war or fight for me since, thankfully.  
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♦ [-] **perfect_storm** 3 days ago

Wait, what the fuck? Isn’t this supposed to be a secret? Why would one of them do this? Is there no punishment if one just spoke up like this? Don't buy it.  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Kind of an unspoken rule to me. I was just taught not to speak of it or act in any way that stood out of the norm for humanity. I think for many of the colonial generation (those born in 1500-late1800-ish or so) never actually dealt with any enforcing authority and just grew up being told this is simply how things are supposed to be.
> 
> It’s mostly a European thing, since their generation, the Post-Roman ones, had churches/clergy as enforcers of the secrecy, and then they pretty much exported it to the rest of the world later on. So I don’t know how it was like before, I just know that most of it was delegated to mythology, prob after some editing too. It’s not really a conspiracy on our part, and human authorities are the ones that started it. Pretty sure most don’t like the attention at all, so maybe it’s just natural that we don’t look to stand out in public anyway.
> 
> Besides, it might not be a secret for long, so I don’t even think it’s a big deal.  
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♦ [-] **MinkMan99** 3 days ago

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOO!   
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> ㄟ(▔ ,▔)ㄏ  
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♦ [-] **pippa_philosophic** 3 days ago

Uh-huh… Let’s pretend for a bit that I believe you’re not just some 4chan troll. What do ‘Guo Linghun’ or whatver want from us? Do you just hurt people with impunity?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Can’t speak for everyone. I just want my city to prosper and the people of HK to be okay and free overall, and I guess I want to live in some peace and with some freedom too, without some tyrant breathing down my neck. I don’t really have any ambition beyond that. That prob echoes many others, but I’m sure CERTAIN ones want the power to kick others around too. Maybe the prestige of being respected and feared. Soft power amongst others of our kind, that sort of power-fantasy…
> 
> If you’re asking about malicious intent towards humans specifically, you probably won’t find that as much. I heard from Arthur (from the UK) at least that everyone kind of goes through a human-hating phase at some point in their teens (10’s–20’s, maybe 30's), but that tends to be just that, a phase, which is more about a distaste or disdain or general assumtion of bad intentions aimed at humans, not really physical violence (kinda waiting for my turn, but haven’t gotten there yet, I guess). Humans aren’t usually a direct target, tho.
> 
> To put it into better terms: My current ‘suzerain’, let’s say, is Yao Wang, works for the CCP. He hates Arthur and Yamato (my Japanese uncle) in a way that’s pretty noxious. I don’t think he directs that at the British or Japanese humans, and while he wouldn’t lift a finger to help one of them, he probably wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt them ‘just because’ either, but, I'm pretty sure he’d do it in a heartbeat if it were to hurt or get something out of Arthur or Yamato somehow.
> 
> I think most don’t care or are indifferent to humans that aren’t, well, ‘theirs’ (not necessarily ownership most of the time? But I know some act like that's the case). So that’s generally collateral damage, because some of us are just assholes of the worst kind, who don’t care that much about lives taken if it means hurting their enemies… and you won’t find many Húns who hate any specific human enough. You’re better off hating someone who won’t be dead within the century…
> 
> Can’t say we ‘want’ anything out of you. Unless you count taxes.  
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♦ [-] **goatattack** 3 days ago

Hey, is that whole ‘social bond’ thing a real thing?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> I guess? I don’t know how that really works myself. I just know I’ve always preferred living in Hong Kong, it’s where I was born. Always felt attached to this place and the people here. I don’t feel too well when I leave for too long, makes me homesick and it’s kind of mentally exhausting and physically draining. I like the people here, I don't like seeing them hurt. I can tell when people are upset and that makes it easy to know how/if I can help; see it like a 6th sense, a primary one, more useful than vision generally…
> 
> I can’t tell a thing about others who aren’t from this city, you’re more reliant on vision and hearing when dealing with them, and it feels a little lacking, tbh. I'd think that counts as a bond of sorts.  
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♦ [-] **purse_of_birds** 3 days ago

Are you aliens? Be honest now!  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Probably not. I’m not all too sure, but it just feels like we’re a little too intertwined with humanity, and not quite like being from somewhere else away from humans. But who knows really? Shrug. I personally don't believe it, and I think many of us would shudder and cringe at the thought of only living with our own kind around.  
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♦ [-] **6** **Mysteriously6Alive6** 3 days ago

Here's a question: Where the fuck do you come from? Where/how are you born?? And how can anyone kill you?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> I dunno how we're born physically, tbh. No one knows scientifically, and it’s definitely not by human means, as most Húns have a single parent, so most are used to go with the mythos of it, which is in the hanzi… But there’s a joke that we actually spring up from the ground, hah.
> 
> But wait now, why would I tell you how to kill me? Don't be silly. You can figure that out by yourself.   
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♦ [-] **JihnLammi** 3 days ago

Do you edit out history? How is that not immoral?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Can’t say we do, personally. Humans do that just fine on their own at this point, and we didn’t start that. Look around, I'm sure your country has a government agency or organization dedicated to doing just that without our imput. Is it immoral? Probably, but you could've asked the Medieval clerics. They started it.  
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♦ [-] **creepybureaucracy8951** 3 days ago

Wtf… Okay? What do you lot do in the government?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Can’t speak for everyone. I hate dealing with bureaucracy and politics, so I don’t hang around the government much, I’d rather be anywhere _else,_ although I can talk to the higher-ups who know who I am. I do that if I think people are upset about something; politicians are often a little too disconnected and sometimes they need to be told these things directly. Although, they’re not really listening to me that much right now…
> 
> I know Yao Wang works extensively with the CCP. Since he can sense what people are feeling, he roots out ‘enemies of the party’ regularly, and he watches the Chinese people there for the government too, looking for dissent… But Arthur doesn’t do that, and I’m pretty sure Yamato doesn’t either, neither do my siblings, or my other uncle in South Korea (not sure about the one in the North, haven’t seen or heard from him in decades…). I'd feel dirty doing that, tbh.
> 
> If you’re worried about us ‘puppeteering governments’, then I don’t know what to tell you… Governments don’t really listen to us, and they mostly just want us to listen to them and get along with the others when they want to, which is what the UN is partially about, tbh (it asks everyone to meet yearly to ‘sort out personal issues’, but I’m not invited, as aren’t some others who are too young). I don’t tell the gov what to do, and if anything, they usually tell me what to do… I’m sure others deal with similar issues and this is probably the least of your concerns.  
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♦ [-] **woefully_certain_tourney** 3 days ago

…So you have families? What’s your family like? Do you not like them?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Right now, I’m ‘okay’ with most of them, although not so much with my father-by-blood… Yao Wang is the 'old man', and Arthur was an adoptive father of sorts.
> 
> My older brother Jinghao who lives in Macau, he’s an ambivalent jerk, and we’re not talking right now; I can’t say I like or dislike him either way. I wish he'd liste to me more. My older sister Mei’s in Taiwan, she’s prob my best friend in the family, we both have similar issues with the old man in Mainland and we like to complain about it. I don’t see the others in Tibet, Xínjiang, Vietnam, and South Korea often, but I never had any real issues with them. Yamato’s in Japan, and he’s changed a lot since the war, I can’t say I hate him, although he did nearly kill me once… Mei knows him better and told me enough about that, it’s just a complicated thing I can’t explain in a Reddit post so I won’t try. I had more family in Mainland, but they’re all dead now.
> 
> So… Yeah. It’s a trainwreck.  
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♦ [-] **SomeHearts_123** 3 days ago

Oh shit, this is NOT a drill, is it?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> I guess not. Hi.  
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♦ [-] **disgracedandy** 3 days ago

What’s stopping you from just going wherever you want and killing whoever you want? Can’t say I trust ‘your kind’.

Besides, something in what you said so far doesn't strike me right. Why the HELL would you even obey the government? If you're immortal, why do you care???  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 9.2k points 3 days ago
> 
> Uuuuh… Considering how much of a hardass everyone tends to be about diplomacy, honor, manners, and/or protocol, killing people for no reason like that really doesn’t happen…? I mean, we do have social rules that are just ours, and that have no corresponding human laws. We hold each other up to it. Like, "don’t walk into someone else’s territory without being invited, that’s rude as hell", “Don’t kil/hurt my people if we’re not at war, or I’m gonna make you regret that”, or “If I beat you in this fight/duel/gamble, I get this territory/money we negotiated for” (the UN doesn’t let anyone do that last one anymore, tho…), "Don’t sneak in to assassinate each other’s human sovereigns, like kings and such, even during war", "leave each other’s supply lines alone if there’s no war", "leave the civilians alone even during war"… 
> 
> These are some really old rules that I was taught, and I know everyone obeys, even during war. It's considered 'savage behavior' not to. And if someone breaks them, everyone kind of gangs up on whoever’s breaking these rules. I’m pretty sure most who did that sort of thing are dead now, and everyone pretty much follows these social rules at this point (unless they have some kind of death wish).
> 
> This applies mostly to foreigners, though. The issue of Húns dealing with humans inside their territory can be a little different.
> 
> Which leads me to the next issue. Why do we care about what the government says, why would we even obey, instead of just doing whatever we want… Good question. We're not sure either. You're not gonna believe me, but most of us are very servile, _especially_ the Western Húns. Arthur, for example, is 100% loyal to his queen or king above all else, would never disobey a royal order, would protect them no matter what. The old man is loyal to the CCP, so long as it has his interests in mind. Most of us are very invested in keeping our countries stable and functional at all costs, and that manifests into servile behavior, for some reason. You might eventually notice that Húns are superprotective of their country's citizens overall, including their human sovereigns. That means not killing people in the government unless it's an exceptionally extreme situation. At most, you'd see Húns killing hard criminals, and that too isn't so common.
> 
> If you don’t trust us, well, that's fine, that goes both way for most actually. Plenty of us don’t trust humans either.  
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♦ [-] **KDA_STAN** 3 days ago

You play League of Legends???  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Y E S.  
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♦ [-] **flat_as_a_pancake** 3 days ago

I’ve read enough to risk believing that you’re the real deal… I hope this is not a repeated question.

If you don’t die so easily (or at all), what is a human war to you? And what is a war between your kind, the Húns?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> …Is there a difference? I don’t think there is. Húns fight often amongst themselves, but I can’t say there’s ever been a formal war that’s just between Húns… Can’t say any of us directly caused a war, but can’t say we’re all so innocent either. You might find quite a few who support it.
> 
> Most have their reasons for pushing towards it… But to try and put this into our perspective… I don’t think there’s ever been one of our kind who was born and died without experiencing a war (if they weren’t murdered right at the start, that is). It’s a bit like a rite of passage, you’re a child until you go through one and fight a real battle and understand the real risk of it to your life… I think that having the sense of total invulnerability, feeling safe from death, and treating war like some kind of sport is considered a really bad trait amongst the adult Húns… It might be considered childish and naïve.
> 
> Yet, if someone sounds like they really like it, the others get pretty nervous these days… But from what I know, that’s genuinely the source the of human-hating phase, because as far as most are concerned, humans are the ones who cause it to begin with; their structures, and the way we feel so tied to them. If humans are fighting, we have to fight too, because not doing so prob means you’ll end up dead… If your people lose the war, you lose too, you’ll end up under someone’s boot, as an inferior, propriety, or slave, or in some kind of subordinate relationship… A suzerain holds a lot of power over your life, you’re vulnerable in that position, you could actually die, and maybe your new suzerain might not want you to exist if they think you might cause trouble in the future… So, why _wouldn’t_ you support fighting…? Why wouldn’t you do it if that’s what’s at stake in the end? I think most just put both in the balance and reach the conclusion that fighting will take them to a better future, even if a lot of humans die in the process.
> 
> This might sound a little weird and complicated (maybe callous?), it’s difficult to explain how we’re so tied to these things, it’s kind of my current predicament, and it’s a little emotionally loaded…
> 
> I can say I’ve never actively contributed to cause trouble, only ever did what I thought necessary to defend myself and my city and my people here. I’m sure most would say the same, whether they were justified or not. But still, if I have the capacity to fight, and have a chance of winning, I guess I’d probably want to do it. Not doing it might just mean we, as people, won’t exist in the future, and that means I’d prob be dead… I don’t know how much sense this makes to you. The older ones, and Mei too, often say that humans don’t really understand, no matter how it’s worded… Maybe I'm too young. I tried.
> 
> Ah, btw. That’s not to say war affects us worse than humans, physically or in the psyche… It doesn’t, and I think that’s the worst part about it… But that’s also not to say it doesn’t affect us at all. As an example, I’d love to say my uncle Yamato decided to be a better person on his own because he ‘saw the light of kindness’ or something, but it was really just the trauma of the atom bombs, it’s the only ‘light’ he actually saw there, scared the crazy right out of him. And also Jones, he kinda went through the effort of ‘teaching him how to be a decent person’…
> 
> The last two world wars were particularly good at traumatizing nearly every Hún who participated into NOT wanting another one no matter what, because tbh, I think most WERE kinda used to it, even if they didn’t think too lightly of it.
> 
> What a messy reply, sheesh.  
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♦ [-] **acceptablepersona347** 3 days ago

Were you at the Umbrella protests?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Yes. The old man wasn’t so happy about it. I hope he doesn't show up to skewer me next time.  
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♦ [-] **Stick_ittothe_Man** 3 days ago

Do you really think you should exist?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Should ANYTHING exist at all? The world is a mysterious place…  
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♦ [-] **Mr_Block** 3 days ago

Oh my Goooooooooood D:

Hey, are you dating anyone?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> I can't just date a human, no……………… The reason should be fairly obvious?
> 
> Also not allowed to date either way. Shrug.  
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♦ [-] **MeanHamster** 3 days ago

You said age is not the biggest factor?? How do you organize? What’s the hierarchical structure?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Not necessarily, yeah. Germany’s Hún is around my age (if not younger), but he’s got a lot more say than I do (also looks older than me)… The one from the US, Jones, is 38 d.o. he's from the Colonial generation like me, but no one likes to mess with him. I think it’s really about the State they’re with and how much they managed to grow up. Think of the G5 or 8 or 20, and you got your hierarchy, it’s not that different from what humans just see as geopolitics because we follow in tandem. I can’t even say any single one is in charge, since from what I saw last time I was at these meetings (snuck in, quite the 'adventure' there), Jones held a lot of sway, but others were still constantly arguing with him anyway, especially with the other G5 people.
> 
> Can’t say it’s airtight, they don’t agree enough on anything to work cohesively. You can take the matter of this secrecy falling apart at the moment, it's because no one is that willing to work together, most don’t really like each other. Everyone is just kind of tolerating each other, some just show up because the UN pays them and they don't bother sorting out grievances, and that’s about it.
> 
> The human UN officials responsible for it are probably drowning their sorrows in booze after every meeting. It's amazing how often they get fired and replaced by the higher-ups.  
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♦ [-] **kayanorak** 3 days ago

This sounds a lot like mythology. Is there’s a scientifically accurate version, or do you just know it as cultural beliefs akin to religion? What about your psychology? That whole social bond thing, and the events that happened in Germany, it made it seem like you have some kind of weird influence on humans. What's that about?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Ah, good question! Oof, this' going to be a little long.
> 
> So. Scientifically, there’s some research, but not a lot. It’s just that not everyone lets themselves be tested on too much. We have a unique blood and DNA, it has similarities with others of our kind, especially those of familial relation by blood, but it’s still distinct from humans and animals… Can't exchange blood with anyone, human or otherwise. Our temperature is a little higher, generally 38/39 °C (that's 100/102 °F for you Americans), and if you try to push the limits by overburdening your body (e.g. physical labour), it can get high enough to start boiling water inside at a rapid pace, which doesn’t feel great, but it doesn’t kill us. You just get a heat stroke and pass out eventually, depending on your endurance.
> 
> The matter of cell and DNA/RNA lifespan has also been studied, and this I just know from Mei, who heard from Yamato and/or Jones. I.e. barring direct inflicted damage, the cells don’t die on their own, they don't replicate unless it's to return to its original state (and they can fix things fast, mind you, but depends on the individual's overall health), the DNA/RNA material doesn’t seem to wear down, although it can actually change a bit overtime, which is why our looks can shift slightly over time (nothing drastic, eye color, skin can shift color slightly, hair too, but it's mostly negligible changes). Although it's theorized that the older we get, the more rigid our genetic code should be.
> 
> There are more theories about it, and I know there’s been experiments on whether this could be shared or used to cure anything, but I can’t say for sure what the results were, just that it didn’t work out so well and that everyone involved was a little too hush-hush and gloom about it. I can guess it’s because cells that don’t die are equivalent to cancer cells in humans, so that prob didn’t work out too well, and I don’t know how many humans have even died due to experimentation… There’s prob a lot of research I’m not privy to. A lot of it is pretty much confidential and I got no permission to go anywhere near foreign states’ research.
> 
> The matter of psychology is another issue. I know the EU has a program for that and has been actively working on studying it for a few decades now. But that’s not something I can get my hands on, at all. I’m sure one day soon it’ll be available, tho. I’d even bet on it.
> 
> Then there’s the matter of human relations, and how our influencing nature actually works, and why humans react the way they do to us, and why the ‘social bond’ thing even happens. Yeah, we don’t actually know that in detail either. What they’ve noted is the chemicals involved in the human brain when dealing with a Hún, and (from what I heard), if dealing with a Hún who isn’t ‘their own’, it seems the reaction is usually rather neutral, but it can also be the equivalent to the prey-predator reaction to dangerous animals like snakes or big cats, depending on the situation… While dealing with one who IS their own, it can be a lot more relaxed and calming overall, it creates a lot of oxytocin in the human brain, apparently, and it's something akin to the reaction of child-to-parent, although the Hún is not always the ‘parent’ in the dynamic, it really depends on the human there… I'm generally treated like a son by most who look older than me here in HK. But I know this can do an 180 too, and on the individual level, the Hún kinda has the upper hand when it comes to who has authority over who.
> 
> Maybe it sounds creepy to you, that's fine… One thing to notice there, though: the thing that happened in Germany, from what I read? That's _not_ normal. Húns can't just order people around like _that._ It's easier to convince humans of things, especially if they're not paying attention, and also especially if the Hún puts a lot of emotion into it, but it's never so extreme. Like we can't convince a human that 2+2=5. We can't order a human into doing something they genuinely don't want to do. Humans can usually resist just fine with some mental fortitude. What happened in Germany really sounds like something particular to the German Hún.
> 
> Another thing you might want to know: the animals within a Hún’s territory also react more amicably to them, as long as they maintain a dominant behavior and don’t show ‘weakness’, that is, most can fend off bears and tigers without a fight, as long as they don’t back down. You gotta put your foot down and the animals get the picture.
> 
> I’d say there are things science doesn’t have the tools to explain yet, as I’m not the type to believe in the supernatural, honestly… Arthur usually acted like it is all very beyond science, while the old man likes to pretend he’s a literal supernatural force of nature… The older ones believe in that sort of thing.
> 
> Sorry, but science is still trying its best here… Maybe one day we’ll know exactly what's going on.  
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♦ [-] **KiKi_Queer** 3 days ago

Daddy-issues much tho?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> …Why wouldn’t I have a problem with a 400-d.o. power-hungry Machiavellian old man who may or may not kill me one day…? You’d have daddy-issues too in my position.  
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♦ [-] **Big_Boy_33** 3 days ago

Wait wait wait a moment just there! Did you just say you GAMBLED AND DUELED over territory?!  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Most sure used to do that here and there, had some big fights too, probably; I never did. The UN stepped in and made it internationally illegal. Technically speaking, national borders are drawn according to Húns' territorial claims. Everyone's unbelievably sensitive about it, which is why we just don't SHARE, and when humans don't respect that… Eeh. Let's just say it turns into a huge headache for everyone involved. Just look at Africa. The borders are _all_ wrong there.  
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♦ [-] **ProgressiveWarrior** 3 days ago

HOW ARE YOU REAL  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> I DONT
> 
> KNOW  
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♦ [-] **warlikerobber4** 3 days ago

So you’re just a kid? Oh, if you’re not part of the big boys’ club, who is? Who are the 'adults' to you?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Age is really not the biggest factor… The Hún from Germany is around my age, and he’s one of the Big 8 over there.
> 
> I just know this because I snuck in there with my sis once. Those like me don’t really get to see the meeting room at all.
> 
> Those 8 are at the main table, you could say. I don’t know all of their names, but the countries they’re from are the USA (that’s Jones), the UK (that's Arthur, he's got brothers who don't get a seat either), France (‘Francis’, I just know because Arthur liked to complain about him a LOT), Canada (Matthew, he's Jones’s brother, they look alike? Don’t share surname), China (the old man, Yao Wang), Germany (don’t remember?), Italy (Pretty sure they got two? Don't remember names nor which gets the seat), Japan (my uncle, Yamato), Russia (Ivan B-something?? But I hear the guy got kicked out of there last year because of some dispute over a kid in Crimea with the lady from Ukraine, don’t ask me the details, I don’t know anything else, it's always messy when a new kid is born somewhere…). Everyone else can bring up their complaints about whatever to them, since they have the most authority.
> 
> It’s kind of the norm with us, State power/territory size/economic strength = personal power/prestige/respect/clout, and it’s taken as permission to be an asshole or an authority. Like you got clout or something.
> 
> The top 8 are generally tasked with policing the rest on their behavior out in the world, to avoid fighting between everyone else so they don’t take their grudges home and influence their govs and peoples with their animosity, because that happens, or at the very least, the humans believe it does. UN goals, you could say… There are plenty of governments that use their Húns as excuses to poke other governments for whatever reason, though…  
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♦ [-] **VenomousPrairiedog** 3 days ago

Why do you hate your dad? I’ve heard so many rumors about him on QQ, there are videos, he didn’t sound that bad, he actually sounded like a wise old man… Very kind.  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> ‘Hate’ might not be the right word… I don't hate- _hate_ him. He sure as hell scares the crap out of me, tho…
> 
> But to be frank, what you have access to when it comes to information about him is only accessible with his permission, even the rumors, he’s just moderating himself in public. He’s been sweetening the well for nearly a year now, and you could say he’s patiently crafting himself a good image for the future… He ‘doesn’t sound that bad’ on Social Media snippets because that’s what he wants you to see, and what he wants you to see is the ‘ancient spirit of China, a wise old grandpa who wants China to prosper despite the big bad greedy Westerners’, when in actuality, he’s the guy so desperate to get his ‘Righteous Chinese Empire kiss-the-ring-you-foreign-peasant’ shtick back that he’s very willing to sacrifice as much as needed to get it, because honestly, he thinks he has the stats to tank it, and he thinks he should be the one on that throne because he thinks the damn throne is just rightfully his… It's so he can whack everyone around him and get revenge on Arthur and Yamato because he’s blinded by his hatred of them.
> 
> He’s old, smart, patient, and as politically crafty as our kind can be, and I highly recommend you don’t ever trust him.
> 
> But like I said, he's my _dad,_ I don't hate him. I just know him.  
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♦ [-] **oh_oh_ohx3** 3 days ago

Did you mean it when you wrote China has a guy who’s 4000 YEARS OLD???  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Yeah. He’s one of the last of the Han Chinese Húns of the continent, he’s that old. He’d say that he's actually 500 d.o. instead, and that he’s the only one left. But then there's me, my older brother, and my older sister too… I don't know _why_ he'd say he's the last one…
> 
> He’s not the only one left, but he’s definitely the oldest, though.  
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♦ [-] **Chat4REalz** 3 days ago

This almost sounds like serfdom… Were you ‘handed over’ to the Chinese government along with Hong Kong…? Can’t you leave to be safe?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Yeah, that’s how it is. I go with the city. I guess that is ‘biological serfdom’, but that’s kind how it is for all of us. You go where your people go. You’re kinda chained to them.
> 
> I don’t mind, I love my people. I don’t want to leave them.  
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♦ [-] **RED_STAR_Lord** 3 days ago

I'm sorry I know this in an AMA but can I ask about this Arthur? Is he still around? Does he still live in the UK? What kind of person(?) is he?

Actually, sorry, could you talk a little about any European Huns you met?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Ah, Arthur. You can say 'person'. He kept me safe after he found me. I was too young to remember much of that, he deduced I was born that year because of my size and behavior. After the British won the Opium War, Arthur became my guardian, although he acted more like an adoptive father. He was strict and a little distant, but overall, he was fair. To me he was, at least. I think of him as a good person, but uuuuh, I can understand why some would disagree… He wasn't kind to too many who weren't his royals and English humans.
> 
> He still lives in the UK, ofc. He's attached to it (specifically England) like I'm attached to HK. He's lived with them for, what, a 109 decades now? 
> 
> I haven't actually met that many Húns, that includes Europeans. I only spent my first few vulnerable years in Europe, but I mostly stayed in HK. I heard plenty from Arthur during subsequent visits, though, he helped me in my studies there and also when he visited too (rare), he liked complaining about other Húns over tea. He never liked them much. Specifically the Hún from France (although that was always weirdly fond? Like he was talking about a rival and not an enemy). Although he complained just as much about Jones, the American one, who he always called 'the Firstborn' (also called him an ungrateful brat and other similar derogatives very often). He also complained about uuh, I was going to cite each, but then I realized he basically complained about every Hún from every country that ever interacted with the UK, and that's a lot. I guess he was venting his frustrations to me because I wasn't going to gossip. Even so, I still don't know enough to share.
> 
> Maybe one day you can ask them to talk about themselves instead?  
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♦ [-] **James_Pluckrose** 3 days ago

Can you guys have kids?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> No. Not like humans do. Our specific familial relationships are technically subjective. My old man and I are objectively related, but I'm just his kid because he's older and he decided I'm his kid and not his little brother or cousin or whatever. Two Húns can be born in different places, but if the humans they're attached to are ethnically similar enough, the two would be closely related genetically, that's weirdly how this works. But whether they're siblings, child and parent, or whatever else is really up to however they want to conceptualize that relationship.  
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♦ [-] **meme_miner** 3 days ago

are traps gay?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Yes. With an asterisk. Don't quote me.  
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♦ [-] **the_bezoar_seller** 3 days ago

There’s no way the Chinese Gaian is the only crafty and power-hungry one. Sounds like personal animosity and bias. Any others you’re willing to rake over the coals? What shady shit is going on at the UN??  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Not willing to throw as much shade as you’d want, although I’m sure most deserve some of it… The only real threat to me right now is the old man, and I don’t want to talk shit about others who could potentially be on my side one day…
> 
> I’m assuming you might want to hear about the Big 8 and what they’re up to, but while I don’t know that much (I don't know most Húns in the world, never met them), I’m not even in a position to burn any bridges, sorry. I’d say Occidentals like Arthur are more friend than foe to me. We agree on lots of things.
> 
> Still, most of the ‘Big Guys’ have their own agendas and are generally looking out for their own countries and peoples (and yes, most are prob willing to step on others to do that). I _really_ doubt you're going to find a Hún who's working against their country's interests.  
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♦ [-] **FoxyFox_The_Fox** 3 days ago

You say your ‘suzerain’ could kill you. Aren’t you making it worse for yourself here?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> I’m ALREADY in trouble because of the Umbrella protests. The old man is gearing up to a future where he’s a public figure, and I figured someone somewhere needed to know he’s not what he’ll portray himself to be. Like I said, I’m spitting on his shoes right now, and I know I have wiggle room to do this.
> 
> Not sure about being able to do this in the next decade, and he’ll be mad when he finds out, but I’m okay. I might get into a shouting match, and I might get hurt, but that’s about it for now.  
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♦ [-] **PennyDeStar** 3 days ago

You sound so nice! I'm from Hong Kong too! ✧٩(ˊωˋ*)و✧ Are you going to be in the next protests?!  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> 你好!ヾ(^▽^*))) Maybe you’ll see me, I’ll be there for sure.  
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♦ [-] **Al_** **Bosporus** 3 days ago

With your age (all of you), how aren't you all fucked up and crazy?   
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> I don't think we function the same, mentally… Everything considered, I'm pretty stable at 174 (I think), and I still feel really young, maybe because most Húns around me are so much older. But I'd GUESS we don't react to aging the same way humans do, maybe we're just made to last. But that doesn't mean Húns are all mentally sound and well adjusted.
> 
> I think many kinda see it like this: you're raised by the humans who govern you and by time.
> 
> In a way, if you have a fucked up Hún, it's because your people's history raised them that way. A country with a harsh history probably has a Hún who's pretty messed up, who's done some terrible things for their people's sake and with lots of scary things in their head that help them cope. And a country that's had an authoritarian government for a long time probably has a Hún who's pretty authority-focused.
> 
> I can't, in good consciousness, say it's all the Hún's fault… but I do think some are really, REALLY crazy deep down…  
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♦ [-] **MementoPizza** 3 days ago

How many kids like you are there? Are tehre smaller kids than you?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Not many. There are some who are even younger and smaller, but I could count them with my hands, probably, and they aren't likely to grow to adulthood at all. They belong to their suzerains like a child belongs to their parent.  
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♦ [-] **rayscom** 3 days ago

Wow, this is a weird thing to see… I’m sure a lot of people thought of Gaians, or ‘Guo/Minzu Linghuns’(?) as some kind of monolith with a single agenda, I’m actually a little happy to see it’s not so… It’d be fascinating to meet you, btw! Ever thought about an actual interview?

Anyway, maybe this is a complicated thing to explain, but what did you think of humans when growing up? Like, what were you taught about us, and what do you think others older than you think of us?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Aaah, an interview? Maybe in the future, if things don't get too ugly for me.
> 
> …But that's loaded question there. You’re right, it IS difficult to explain… Bear with me.
> 
> I don’t remember thinking anything specific at first. I was small and alone, prob couldn’t think coherently yet, and those who found me often wanted to take care of me, even while I was skittish and afraid of getting close to anything that moved (as child Húns tend to be, apparently…). I’m sure I worried plenty of them by running off and disappearing after they gave me food. Arthur was the first to actually catch me. It seems we're born toddlers? Never been a Hún younger. I guess we can move and hide that quickly after birth… however that works.
> 
> A year before the end of the first Opium War, and after the British won, Arthur decided he wanted me as part of the deal. Being the cutthroat negotiator that he was, he got what he wanted. At that point, my only contacts with humans were positive and I think I liked them, even more so as I dealt with my own kind and decided they weren’t as nice, as one of the Chinese Húns freaked out and decided I had to die, as that was better than letting the Brits have me (I don’t remember who that was, tho). Arthur protected me, ofc… I wouldn’t learn the theoretical differences between us until a year later. Then it got to be a little more 50/50, as in London I met more unpleasant humans, and also met other nicer Húns, like Arthur’s other kids and brothers and subjects who occasionally visited… Overall, I liked the ones in my city, I missed them a lot while in London. Was homesick, it seems.
> 
> But I was taught to be civil with those outside too. As far as I was taught, we were ‘different’, but we valued the same things overall, that was good enough for me. Dealing with more of them during the wars, however, I admit, it left a bad taste. I always liked the ones in my city, but foreigners became something a little different and scarier over time. It took me a few decades to get over that.
> 
> Honestly tho, I’m not sure how many Húns can even say the same. I can say for sure that many others weren’t so lucky and probably had some very negative experiences with humans right off the bat while young, which prob colored their views afterwards. Mei told me a few horror stories, she got some from our uncles in Korea and Japan, torture, terrible wounds, persecution, and Jones once told her that he got hanged three times at witch-trials as a child (she likes talking about him, it’s kind of a crush… which the old man hates so much he could kill you for bringing it up… don’t ask…). 
> 
> Maybe these Húns are just cautious now, or maybe they have low expectations for humans, or maybe the think humans are better than them and it's why Húns serve them, or they think they’re actually _better_ than humans and thus humans are ones who serve Húns in a roundabout way, or that Húns need to be told what to do, or that humans are the ones need to be told how to behave, etc. It’s a LOT of different opinions here… You'll find Húns with all sorts of thoughts on these. I happen to think humans can be good and generally go in the right direction if they're left alone without crazy violent ideas in their heads.
> 
> I know for sure the old man thinks that humans are violent and self-destructive and that they need to be herded accordingly so that they don’t literally destroy society… There are prob other views I didn't mention on this, I doubt I’m representing all of them accurately. I really can’t speak for anyone other than myself, I guess. Just don't put all of us in the same box. We differ a lot.  
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♦ [-] **Henriqe_Soulz** 3 days ago

From the way you've been describing things on your end of reality… considering the terminology, both Eastern and Western, and everything about how you function… I gotta say, it almost sounds like uuuuh, you're some kind of face or representative of a group of people in some kind of metaphysical sense… 

What……… Nation?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Funny. That is kinda how people in the know have always seen this, which is why the word 'nation' stuck… and it's also how we treat each other. A group of humans did something bad, had a Hún with them. Hún of the victims will be blaming the Hún of the offenders as if he had personally caused it for centuries.
> 
> The humans die and you still gotta blame _somebody._ It's always 'never forgive, never forget' with us, and it's always _so_ macro…
> 
> Gotta tell you, we can _really_ hold a grudge for a looong time…  
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♦ [-] **lag_bae** 3 days ago

Hi, Leon, nice to meet you! I have so many questions! But could you explain what’s life like for you? :)  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Hi! Thanks for asking.
> 
> Life’s not _that_ different for me. I like going to college. Studying new things. I have friends to hang out with after classes. I don’t sleep as much as humans, around 2 hours every night does the trick for me, so I usually stay up late playing online, or reading/studying, or watching movies/shows. I spend some time house cleaning and cooking too.
> 
> I'm given an allowence by the government. I could spend all of it on impulse and ask for more, I really think they'd let me abuse it. But it is taxpayer money, so… I try to not use it too much and what's left I give to a charity every month.
> 
> I do have a lot more leeway with the law, tho. I can drive, even tho I look too young, my license says I’m 18 anyway, and yeah, if I see something happening nearby, a robbery or a crime, I technically have the authority to intervene (as I do when I accidentally butt into triad business… just don’t ask about THAT, it’s usually an accident), but only if the police is not around to do it because they don’t actually know anything about me. The government pretty much acts as my ‘parent’ (because the old man is usually on Mainland, busy with his own government, so the HK adm is delegated as my ‘legal guardian’), they’re the ones who scold me if I overstep my boundaries, and decide on punishments if needed. Usually house-arrest or community service, as they don’t like me dealing with criminals and getting into fights. I can usually argue my case, I’ve been studying Law these days, although I don't mind helping clean the city every now and then. On the other hand, I also help citizens when I can. Favours, advice, emotional support, sometimes small things, sometimes protection if needed.
> 
> I’m aware it’s not exactly a normal civilian lifestyle, but honestly, I like to keep it as normal as I can, it’s much more peaceful. I don’t really understand how the big guys handle living a life so intertwined with geopolitics for so long… Seems like hell to me, although I can’t deny the perks of being taken seriously and having the power to negotiate and push back against abuse from others…
> 
> I guess it’s ‘kinda’ normal overall.  
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♦ [-] **MoneyLemder** 3 days ago

Who do you normally vote for in HK?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> I can’t vote. (╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻  
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♦ [-] **xSavagi_Stalicax** 3 days ago

Aaaah, can we see you? A picture??? :3  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Haha, not today. Sorry. ╮(￣▽￣")╭  
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♦ [-] **WW_Smithson** 3 days ago

You said Hun kids don't grow to adulthood??? How come that happens?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> That's the strange thing? We're kinda tied up to the territory and the people in it in a way that's pretty intrinsic, and it reflects on us. If there's no growth inside the territory, expansion and population growth, then the Hún just kinda stays a little static. It's like things are all conditional for us, and humans are sort of holding the wheel for all of it. I hear there are Húns who stayed child-like for more than 100 years. But it's still possible for a Hún to grow to their late-teens in the same amount of time. It's all really environmental and conditional.
> 
> As things stands in HK for example, I'll probably be looking 15 for the forseeable future. Maybe forever, actually.  
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♦ [-] **givemhell_asdf** 3 days ago

…Serious question: this secrecy, what do you think it’s going to happen with it in the near future?  
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> ♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago
> 
> Some people seem to think we ALL care a great deal about keeping things a secret. That’s not the case. Most only do so out of habit or convenience. It’s just the status quo we had for a long time now. I think most don’t like attention to begin with, it can get uncomfortable, although that might be because we’re not used to it… But I think most don’t give a damn whether humans know or not.
> 
> Either way, the ones who care the most are Westerners, and from what I hear (from Mei in particular), it’s actually a pretty big point of contention between them and everyone else. I know some non-Westerners are threatening Westerners over it, saying they’ll start acting out in public on purpose unless the Westerners cough up favors or money or better deals for their countries or whatever, and things got pretty ugly at that last meeting because of this, or so I hear. You could say they saw blood in the water.
> 
> So it’s causing lots of infighting and no one’s happy with anyone at the moment. Europeans in particular aren’t likely to bend over for that sort of threat, tho, not with how abrasive the demands seem to be, so I don’t see how this will end well there. It doesn’t help that, apparently, Jones has been fairly lax about this sort of exchange. Mei says that he’s been holding back on threats recently, although she’s not all that sure why. Maybe because he’s not actually willing to do anything so he doesn’t say anything, or it might just be something between him and the American government informing his actions there, which we know nothing about really.
> 
> Uuuh, I can’t say I see this secret lasting, but whether or not it’ll reach any mainstream culture is anyone’s guess. Humans are just unpredictable sometimes. It’s a trait I like but I think most really don’t.
> 
> The point is that I don’t know what will happen.  
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♦ [-] **77Leon77** 3 days ago

I guess I answered enough questions. Got what, a few hundred?

Honestly, I just wanted to throw a wrench at the old man’s plans, to share somewhere that he’s not really what he’ll pretend to be; to at least share enough so that people know that we’re not all like him, and we’re not all equal… I really don't want to be tossed in the same basket as the worst of us.

I'm out. Peace.  
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> ♦ [-] **GaiaIsReal** 4.9k points 3 days ago
> 
> NONONO Is it over already?!?! I CANT BELIEVE I FUCKING MISSED THIS OMFG SOMEONE SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD!!!! GAG ME WITH A SPOON UNTIL I FUCKING DIE!!!!! MLFJSLKVJFVLJLFMLVDFVKLSJFAJVAKFLSFLS  
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** … **

* * *

**3:26 AM  
** **03/16/2015**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing should probably have a lot more meme questions. I'm not creative enough to think of that many jokes, so use your own imagination. :D
> 
> The annoying thing about this format is that every time I have to edit, AO3 adds like a bar of space above each blockquote, so every time I have to edit a typo, I have to erase each extra space from this whole thing.
> 
> Why U do this to me, AO3?!?!?
> 
> I couldn't possibly write all of it, though. So this should just be a small amount of the total. Take it that Hong Kong talked a LOT here.  
> (Also, I know K/DA wasn't a thing in 2015, but take that as just a little reference haha)
> 
> [Hey, I got a Gab account. Twitter sucks.](https://gab.com/Ms_YYK) For random videos I find, funny or serious, memes, excerpts from what book I'm reading, and random thoughts.
> 
> $GME hold the line   
> 

**Author's Note:**

> **A character's opinion is _not_ my opinion. Do not. conflate. the two.** If you want to know my _actual_ opinion, ask nicely.   
>  **Characters _don't_ reflect Public Opinion.** They reflect my interpretation of history and culture.
> 
> **Unreasonable, angry comments will be ignored.  
>  Unreasonable, angry, _anonymous_ comments will be deleted.**  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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